


Where Do We Go From Here?

by wolfiefics



Series: The Exiles [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: End of Clone Wars, Established Relationship, Hopeful start of a new series, I do what I want, Jedi are Screwed, M/M, Mentions of sex in this story but probably more in later additions, On the Run, Qui-Gon Lives, Younglings, baby luke and leia, loose use of canon, so there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfiefics/pseuds/wolfiefics
Summary: In the aftermath of Order 66, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan survive. Qui-Gon flees the devastated Temple with four younglings in tow. Obi-Wan goes after Anakin, but can’t kill his former apprentice, brother and friend, despite knowing it could bring about the end of all things. Reunited, they must find safety and reluctantly trust others who may be enemies to survive. With four younglings, a baby named Luke Skywalker, a Weequay mid-wife/nurse, and a black market trader, and Qui-Gon’s less than upstanding brother, the two Jedi Masters head into the unknown, the only place the Sith will hopefully not follow. They have only the Force to guide them, bringing whole new meaning to the oft-said phrase, “May the Force be with you.”
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: The Exiles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725547
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38





	Where Do We Go From Here?

**Author's Note:**

> I’m playing fast and loose with canon, both movie-verse and EU. I’m not overly knowledgeable about the EU, so I’ve been using Wookiepedia to give me some guidance. The ending is a bit of a “is there more?” set-up. It is my intention to throw out vignettes as they come to me. As for a true resolution, I cannot say, but maybe, if something comes to me. Also, Qui-Gon is a bit younger, Obi-Wan was his second padawan, not his third, that way he’s not older than Yoda. LOL! If you have suggestions, or your own little plot bunnies to toss my way, put them in the comments or visit my [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wolfiefics). You can drop a line anyway you like, I accept anon. 
> 
> Remember kudos are great, comments are better. If you like it, do either, even if it’s just incoherent screaming of joy or rage. Authors get so little encouragement. Often we’re left floundering, wondering if our time and effort was worth it. I take criticism honestly given; flames I put out with a fire extinguisher and sweep the ashes under the rug.

“Go!” Obi-Wan Kenobi Force shoved the younglings at his former master and bondmate, Qui-Gon Jinn. “Get them out of here! I’ll go after Anakin!”

He saw Qui-Gon hesitate, felt the flash of worry and fear through their bond, but Qui-Gon knew the score. This was the end. They needed to salvage what they could and get the hell off Coruscant. There was no place for the Jedi here anymore.

Four younglings. Obi-Wan’s heart twisted as he watched Qui-Gon help the four children away from their hiding place and to the craft that had brought the two Jedi Masters here, hot on Anakin’s heels. They’d been too late. Too, too late. The carnage throughout the Jedi Temple was gut-wrenching, the stench of fear, disbelief, and death permeating the living energy that had once been peace, gentleness and faith.

Qui-Gon, with his uncanny link with the Living Force, seemed to have homed in on these four younglings like a heat seeking missile. Obi-Wan ran behind his lover down corridors and past rooms, bodies everywhere. Qui-Gon had halted at the door to the creche and both men took a big breath, sensing death within a place that should have been full of innocent life.

It had been horrific. Even now, Obi-Wan didn’t want to think about it, though the sight was seared into his memory. Qui-Gon had moved past the little bodies, looking neither right nor left, but Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon was cataloging everything he saw, just like Obi-Wan. Somehow, some way, in a tiny fresher, four younglings were huddled, eyes wide and terrified, stifling their whimpers of fear with little fists crammed into their mouths. One cried out when the door opened with a wave of Qui-Gon’s hand. These four had managed the fresher lock and Anakin, somehow, had missed them.

Now Obi-Wan was racing to find Anakin. To confront the man that both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan raised and trained. A man who was a brother to Obi-Wan in all but blood. He tapped into the Unifying Force, his strongest focus, and followed it to the outer vestiges of the Temple. There, crowded together, were members of Anakin’s troops, the 501st.

They were milling about, almost lost and aimless. Dressed in the white clone armor, their identical faces obscured, Obi-Wan could see nothing individual about them. He stretched out his senses and realized that some were coming out of whatever mind control that had forced them to turn on their Jedi leaders. Others, however, had not.

Those saw Obi-Wan and immediately open fired. Obi-Wan’s blue-bladed lightsaber hummed to life and he parried and bounced back the blaster bolts. He tried to pick off those still under this evil influence, regretfully, but the brotherhood the clones felt for each other was stronger even than their ingrained sense of following a Jedi’s orders. The whole group soon was shooting at Obi-Wan.

This was a battle he couldn’t win. They were too many and, good as he was, he would make a fatal mistake. Anakin was the priority, not the cannon fodder. Guilt at the thought of the clones that way tripped through Obi-Wan but he shoved it away. Hard though it was, it was a bitter truth.

Trusting in the Force, he jumped off the edge of the platform, plummeting, manipulating traffic so he didn’t hit something until he landed on one of the big thousand passenger air buses. These vehicles weren’t terribly fast-moving so Obi-Wan scurried down the roof of it until he reached the droid driver. He disabled it and pushed it out of the way. He then maneuvered the hulking vehicle toward the Senate building. That was where Anakin was.

This wasn’t the quickest way, Obi-Wan grumbled to himself, but it was rather covert. 

As the vehicle turned and moved off it’s intended course, there was an inquiring rumble from the passengers. The driver’s cab was completely closed off from the passengers, so Obi-Wan didn’t fear being overtaken by them.

As the bus came up to the Senate ramp, Obi-Wan flicked on the auto-drive, hopped out and moved on, knowing the auto-drive would reset the course and get these people where they were supposed to go.

The Force was burning like a scorching fire here at the Senate building. The amount of it was raising the hairs on Obi-Wan’s arms and neck. Yoda. And Palpatine.  
For a moment Obi-Wan’s hopes rose but then sunk. The Dark Side was strong, overpoweringly so. Obi-Wan doubted even the aged and wise Master Yoda would come out over it.  
And Obi-Wan was right.

Yoda fled, defeated, and Obi-Wan continued to track Anakin. Now it was personal. It was retribution. It was also strategic. Palpatine couldn’t have Anakin at his side with the amount of power in the Force the two had. The galaxy would become a wasteland.

Padme met Obi-Wan as he exited the Senate building. “What’s going on?” she demanded.

Obi-Wan hesitated. Qui-Gon and he had turned a blind eye to Anakin and Padme’s romance and marriage. Even actively hid it from other Jedi. Many looked in askance at Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s relationship but a marriage between a respected senator and a Jedi? With a pregnancy? That would have been a mess from day one.

But Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon trusted Padme. She was a friend, an ally and loved Anakin as much as they. Could he tell her that Anakin had fallen? What he had done to his fellow Jedi? Especially children not much older than the ones she carried, for Obi-Wan could sense two heart beats within her belly.

He owed her the truth. Obi-Wan took a breath and pulled her along with him. “We have to go,” he told her urgently.

“What’s happening?” Padme demanded, trying to keep up with Obi-Wan’s longer stride. Obi-Wan adjusted his walk to accommodate her more awkward gait but said nothing. This couldn’t be discussed here.

She gave a mighty jerk and pulled her arm from his grasp. “Obi-Wan!” she nearly shouted. He stopped and turned to her. Something in his expression gave her pause. “Where’s Anakin?” she asked.

Whatever his face was saying now, he didn’t know, but she went white and swayed in place. He pulled her to him so she wouldn’t fall down. “I’m sorry,” was all he could say. “I wish-I wish-“ He could say no more.

He didn’t have to. Padme buried her face in his chest, her elaborate updo brushing his chin.

“He didn’t, he wouldn’t,” she tried to deny. Obi-Wan wished he could reassure her. She pushed away and looked up at him fiercely. “He’s loving and kind!”

“We found the bodies, Padme,” Obi-Wan croaked, his throat closing up as their shared disbelief and grief swamped him. “He even slaughtered the younglings, innocent children.”

Her brown eyes widened, swimming with tears. She angrily brushed them away, shaking her head as she did so. “I don’t believe you!”

Obi-Wan gripped her arms, resisting the urge to shake her. “Qui-Gon and I found them, Padme! His Force signature permeated the place like miasma! Do you think I want to believe it either? I love him too! We love him, you, me and Qui-Gon! But he’s Fallen, Padme, he went to the Dark Side!”

Her shaking head stopped and she was still, frighteningly still. Then in a voice strangely calm, she asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Palpatine is the Sith Master. He defeated Master Yoda in combat. I cannot allow him and Anakin to completely unite. The Republic will be utterly destroyed, the galaxy enslaved. I have to go after Anakin.” His voice took on a broken quality as he begged her to understand. “I have to kill him, Padme. He’s too powerful. The two of them are too powerful. I don’t want to. I wish-I wish-“ Obi-Wan could speak no more. His arms fell to his side, releasing her from his grasp. They stood there, minds racing on what to do, how to do it, and what were the consequences.

“Let me talk to him,” she finally said, looking up at him with beseeching eyes. “I can reach him, I know I can. Please?”

Obi-Wan wanted to tell her to run, hide somewhere beyond the bounds of the Old Republic. Take her and Anakin’s babies and run. She wouldn’t though. She was a warrior as sure as any of old. With or without a weapon in her hand, Padme Naberrie was a formidable woman. Obi-Wan wanted to hope she could reach Anakin, but he feared it was a fool’s hope.

He couldn’t deny her though. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Passing buildings, striding down walkways, and using the city lifts, Obi-Wan led her, maintaining a pace she could easily keep up with without tiring her. Finally, they reached a place that had seen better days by far. Padme said nothing, though Obi-Wan knew Anakin had likely taken her here before. It was a favorite of the Jinn/Kenobi/Skywalker household: Dex’s Diner.

The Besalisk looked up, stone-faced, when Obi-Wan and Padme entered. Without a word, Dex opened a door to the back kitchen and Obi-Wan ushered her before him. 

Still wordless, Dex handed Obi-Wan a flimsi and a credit stick. Obi-Wan looked at the stick and blanched at the amount of money on it. “Dex, I can’t-“ he began.

Dex growled at him, a distinct ‘do as I say’ that shut Obi-Wan up quick. He read the flimsi. They were coordinates. He looked up with an inquiring glance and Dex stared meaningfully at Padme’s plump stomach. It was someplace safe they could go. Maybe the Sith would eventually find them there, but it would take time. Dex knew the business of hiding from the authorities well.

Obi-Wan startled the hulking giant by pulling him into a fierce hug. “We will never forget you,” he said in a choked voice. “May the Force be with you, my friend, always.”

Dex hugged back just as strongly, all his arms wrapping around Obi-Wan, and then released him, giving him a shove toward the back door. Finally, the Besalisk spoke. “A craft is ready to leave from a landing pad in the Alpha quadrant. I suggest you commandeer it in the name of the good Senator here. She is, after all, in a delicate condition and needs protection.”

Padme opened her mouth to protest, but the light went off in her head and she snapped her jaw closed with a click that made Obi-Wan wince.

They left. Obi-Wan sensed he would never see Dex again. Another piece of his life that Anakin had torn away.

A slow rage began to build.

* * *

Qui-Gon got the younglings aboard the ship that brought he and Obi-Wan back to Coruscant and got the hell out, ignoring all traffic lanes and launchings. It was dangerous, reckless on a planet like Coruscant, but Qui-Gon didn’t give a damn. Coruscant was soon speeding behind them but he didn’t breathe easier. There was no relief.

The younglings he’d quickly settled in one sleeping room, told them they were safe and that he was going to get them all out. Young and naïve though they were, they were Jedi children, a bit wiser in their ways than others their age would be.

One of the older ones, a Twi’lek boy gathered the four of them and settled them into a meditation pose. Qui-Gon sent a wave of comfort and reassurance to them through the Force as he left. He felt none of those things himself, but their welfare was now his top priority.

He plugged in random coordinates and hit hyperspace quickly. About an hour later a transmission came through, a set of coordinates and the message “Dex sends us his regards”. Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon course corrected and settled back in the pilot’s seat, wondering just where Dex was sending them.

The Besalisk had long been a friend. Qui-Gon trusted him completely. Where ever Dex was sending them might not be the most hospitable of locales but it would be someplace they could effectively hide, regroup and make plans. He felt a pang. He would never see the hulking diner owner ever again. Another piece of his long life lost forever.

A Jedi’s life span stretched a bit further than the average of their species. The Force imbued them with this gift, though no one quite knew why. It was true of all Force sensitives, be they Jedi or not, really. So though Qui-Gon was approaching what would be considered middle age for a human, he was still spry. He was no longer a man fully in his prime, true, but he wasn’t a withered old man, wobbling on a cane either.

The hardship that faced him with these children, and hopefully soon Obi-Wan, was going to be beyond anything he’d ever dealt with before, he instinctively knew. His age may be a disadvantage even as his experience and accumulated knowledge was an advantage. He kept his mind on the here and now, as he’d often harangued both Obi-Wan and Anakin. And Xanatos before them.

But it was so hard. The bodies haphazardly laying everywhere, full of blaster burns and lightsaber damage. The Jedi Temple’s very energy fully enveloped with evil and darkness. His mind returned to it again and again until he was shaking from the aftermath of the shock.

For now, he and the children were safe. As safe as they could be, anyway. He could give way to grief for just a few minutes. 

He bowed his head, face in hands, and wept for all that was lost. 

By the Force, it was all his fault.

* * *

Anakin’s hate-filled words rang in his ears and the stench of the volcanic planet and blood still filled his nostrils as Obi-Wan ran for the ship that had brought he and Padme to Mustafar. He couldn’t administer the killing blow. His affection and love for Anakin stayed his hand. Almost completely limbless, Anakin had continued to spew hate and filth at Obi-Wan as he lay in the volcanic soil by a lava river. Obi-Wan just couldn’t do it. 

He had a feeling it was a huge mistake but it was done now. Obi-Wan had to get to Padme. Something had gone wrong with the pregnancy. He needed to help her. Salvage something of this horrifying mess.

He bounded up the lowered ramp and followed the screams of labor to the small infirmary bay. A med droid was diligently, if unsympathetically, helping the straining young woman. Obi-Wan hovered in the doorway a moment until Padme saw him and reached out a beseeching hand. He entered and grasped it tightly, unable to speak but knowing from her expression he didn’t need to.

Obi-Wan could feel her growing weaker. Not so much in body, though that was true, but in spirit. Her absolute love and faith in Anakin Skywalker, betrayed and broken, had brought the indomitable Padme Naberrie, former Queen Amidala of Naboo, to her final end. Obi-Wan could see it shimmering in the Force. The babes might live; Padme would not.

Another death to lay at Anakin’s doorstep.

A baby appeared. The droid babbled in its techno language and Padme seemed to understand it. “Luke,” she managed. 

Obi-Wan took the now-swaddled baby in his arms as Padme labored once more. A few minutes later another baby appeared and the droid spoke.

“Leia,” Padme rasped. 

Obi-Wan angled the baby he held toward her so she could see him. The droid did the same. Padme reached to brush a chubby cheek but her energy was spent. Her brown eyes fluttered and closed. Her breathing, once labored, became calmer, weaker and soon stopped altogether.

Obi-Wan made room for the second baby in his arms while the droid administered to Padme, trying to revive her but failing, as Obi-Wan knew it would. 

He wanted to rage. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beat the walls with his fist, his head, his feet. He couldn’t. He had these two lives to protect. He needed to get them, and himself, off this damned planet before someone came to see who they were. This was a Separatist stronghold. There was no way they weren’t spotted.

The droid covered Padme respectfully and Obi-Wan set the babies where the droid indicated. He needed to tell the pilot to get them the hell out of here. He needed to find Qui-Gon, regroup, and figured out what to do next. They had four younglings and now two newborns to care for.

What the hell were they going to do?

He remembered Dex’s coordinates. This ship was less than conspicuous. He needed to go alone, with the babies. Or…

He reached out into the Force, asking for guidance, if the seed of the plan in his head was the right path.

It was.

Once in the tiny cockpit, Obi-Wan said, “Take us to Alderaan.”

* * *

Qui-Gon, never in a million years, would have thought Dex would send him back to Tatooine. Qui-Gon decided not Mos Espa but another, well, shithole of a space port town. Considering Anakin hated Tatooine and often said that except to see his mother again he’d never return, this Outer Rim backwater was probably the safest place to be right now.

Qui-Gon got clearance to land from the questionable port authority at Mos Eisley, settling the old but well-maintained star ship on the assigned landing pad. Once the engines were killed, he took a deep, fortifying breath and headed toward the back end of the ship where four curious and slightly alarmed presences glowed through Force at him.  
He’d learned a bit about these younglings on the trip. Once he’d set autopilot, he’d gathered them, fed them a meal from the meager stores and offered them the comfort they craved so badly.

The Twi’lek boy was Daen Lewi. He was almost nine years old and had been looking forward to attending his first lightsaber classes now that he’d built his first functional lightsaber. It had been in his small hand the entire journey, taken into the fresher with the other three younglings, afraid but determined to fight, even though the boy knew he was far out-matched. 

Two were human, a boy and a girl. They never spoke a word, no matter how much Qui-Gon smiled and coaxed them. Daen had volunteered their names: Sal Toom and Reja Hugh. The two clung to each other, apart in their chairs to eat, two hands still clasped. Once food had been consumed, the hugging had resumed. They were clearly in shock. Qui-Gon had reached out into the Living Force to evaluate them and found both strong in the Living Force like himself. The destruction, pain and fear around them at the Temple had no doubt overwhelmed their weak defenses. None of them knew Sal and Reja’s ages but Qui-Gon guessed no more than four or five years.

The last youngling reminded him forcefully of Obi-Wan, even young as the child was. Qui-Gon had no doubts that Obi-Wan had just been like the calm and resolute Rhodian girl. Daen confided to Qui-Gon that little Jala Crind had never once flinched or shown fear as they listened to their creche mates die.

This worried Qui-Gon a bit. Obi-Wan at almost thirteen had been defiant and self-sacrificing. He’d known his path in life and had been confused and hurt that it wasn’t coming to pass. Obi-Wan’s gift for future-sight often warred with his reality. Did little Jala have the same ability? Is that what gave her the courage and strength that emanated from her?  
So much for a child who was seven years of age.

By all the Little Gods in All the Heavens. 

The children gathered around him when he entered their room. They didn’t speak, just looked at him with solemn eyes, waiting to find out their fate.

“We are on a planet in the Outer Rim,” he told them with a smile. “It is a desert planet, with two suns. Very hot, harsh blowing sands in your face. I must find us supplies, find us somewhere to go where we can’t be found.” He crouched down to be more on their level and looked each child in the eye one by one. “You have been so brave, fine Jedi indeed. Can you be brave some more? I can’t leave you here. It’s too dangerous. There are bad people here who would take advantage if they knew you were alone. Can you come with me, use your training to help me find what we need?”

The four exchanged silent looks and Qui-Gon waited patiently. He wasn’t known to frequent the creche. He was an unknown to them. A Jedi, yes, but so had been the one who’d destroyed their lives. Anakin often spent time in the creche. They would have known him, trusted him and been taken by surprise at his turning on them so viciously.  
Daen was usually the speaker for the children but it was Jala who spoke this time. “Yes. We can do it.”

Qui-Gon broadened his smile, tinging it with pride, reinforcing it through the Force. “I never had a doubt, young ones. I have nothing to cover our faces to protect from the winds, but we will find something, I’m sure.”

That’s how Qui-Gon Jinn found himself herding four younglings down the sandy street of Mos Eisley looking for someplace to find provisions. Water was hard to come by on Tatooine but the water tanks on the ship were still well-supplied. The food had been scant when he and Obi-Wan took the ship on their mad dash to Coruscant and there was precious little left. If they were going to live here on this desert planet, they were going to need more appropriate clothes, or at least face coverings, to deal with the hostile environment as well as food.

And Republic credits, as Qui-Gon well-remembered, wouldn’t go far here, though he had a bit with him.

They would make do. They had too. There was no other option. So far.

The fivesome stood out like sore thumbs. They were dressed inappropriately for the climate and a human male with four small children…well, Qui-Gon reckoned he was probably being taken for a slave dealer.

Daen stopped at a small awning covered table littered with tightly woven scarves. His light blue hand reached out tentatively to touch one and then jerked back as the proprietress hissed at him. Qui-Gon put a hand on the boy’s shoulder protectively. “Do you like that one?” he asked simply. Daen nodded, not looking up at Qui-Gon. “How much for the scarves?”

The woman, so craggy and weathered Qui-Gon wasn’t entirely sure what race she was, looked him up and down before rasping, “What are you paying in?”

Qui-Gon pulled out his credit stick. “All I have are Republic credits. However, I can do some handiwork for you if you’d rather that.”

The crone considered him a moment before snorting. “Scarves for all of you?” Qui-Gon nodded. “Hmm.”

Now Qui-Gon knew how a slave on the auction block felt like. She examined him closely, as if gauging what he was good for, before she came to a decision. 

“I’m old. I have no slaves. If you will help shore up my home, scarves for all of you and a meal.”

“Done.” Qui-Gon held out his hand in the traditional hand slap of agreement. She delivered it smartly.

“Come back when the suns start to go down,” she told him. “I will feed you and your youngsters and show you what needs to be done. You can do it tomorrow.”

Daen reached for the scarf and she slapped his hand. The boy jerked the offended limb back, rubbing it and leaning into Qui-Gon as if to escape her.

“Scarves after you work,” she growled.

Qui-Gon bowed to her, motioning the children to do the same. When he rose upright he realized he’d made a tactical mistake. Her eyes were wide and then narrowed consideringly. She uttered one word that made him go cold but waved them off like gnats. “Jedi.”

He could amend her memory. He should do so in fact. The children’s, and his, lives likely depended upon it. However, if they were going to live here, or at least need to deal with the people of Mos Eisley, he couldn’t alienate them. If he went around manipulating everyone who figured out they were Jedi, it would be noticed. And probably not by anyone remotely willing to be friendly to them.

All Qui-Gon could do is hope she would keep that knowledge to herself, help her, accept her food for the children’s sake, and pray to whatever gods that looked over down-on-their-luck Jedi that she would remember their respect and good will when it came down to the wire.

* * *

Bail’s mouth was hanging open. Obi-Wan felt a brief stab of amusement despite the situation. It wasn’t very often you could take Bail Organa by surprise.

Bail turned his attention to the infants cradled in Obi-Wan’s arms. One was wide awake and the other fast asleep. Though twins, there absolutely nothing alike about them. A tuft of dark hair graced the girl and a smattering of downy blond topped the boy. Their eyes were blue, like all human infants, but even the shades were different. Leia was a bit plumper as well.

“Why?” asked Bail simply.

“Something occurred to me,” Obi-Wan confessed as he juggled the infants enough to hand Bail little Leia. “I don’t think Anakin knows there were twins. He always said ‘baby’ whenever he spoke of the pregnancy to Qui-Gon and I. Whether he determined a gender, I have no idea.”

Bail took Leia and stared down at her sleeping face, enraptured. It confirmed to Obi-Wan he was making the right choice.

“I can’t take them both. Though the girl is not as strong in the Force as the boy, we found four youngling survivors at the Temple. All of us together, Bail, we’re be a beacon in the Force, luring Anakin to us with a vengeance.”

Bail looked up into Obi-Wan’s face with a frown. “So, you separate them, diminish their…” He floundered for a word. “Force broadcast?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes. You were Padme’s friend. The Jedi respected you, Bail, your integrity and honesty. Please,” he begged meaningfully, “be a friend to us one more time.”

Bail swallowed hard and his arms tightened around the sleeping girl. “What did you say her name is?”

“Leia.”

Bail’s face was fierce as he held a hand out to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan gripped Bail’s wrist as Bail gripped his. “My wife and I will raise her as our own. All we can give her, she will have. I will see that all of the qualities of greatness she inherited from her parents are nurtured.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes pricked with tears. “We will never forget you, my friend,” he said huskily.

Bail’s eyes flicked to baby Luke. “What about the boy?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “I can’t tell you. The less you know…” He trailed off his explanation but when Bail nodded Obi-Wan knew the Alderaanian aristocrat understood.

“The Force be with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Bail said even as he turned away. “Please be careful and be safe. If I can help in any way, let me know.”

“I will, Bail. The Force be with you as well,” Obi-Wan rejoined, turning himself to head back to the landing pad of the Organa home compound.  
Just as Obi-Wan reached the ramp, Luke let out a scream that made Obi-Wan jump. He looked around nervously but there was no one about to care. He looked at the baby, who was sporting what was distinctly a disgruntled expression.

He got up the ramp and punched the code to raise it and seal the entrance. Luke let out another ear-piercing scream. Obi-Wan nodded to the pilot, who scrambled back to the cabin up front. The pilot, a former Jedi initiate, knew the score. 

Obi-Wan went to a cabin and settled on a bunk, still cradling the baby. He brushed a hand down a downy cheek. “What is it, little one?” he asked softly as he heard the engines roar to life and the ship angle upwards to break orbit.

Luke burbled something similar to a displeased grunt and waved a fist that had been pulled from the blanket he was swaddled in. Obi-Wan’s heart squeezed tight. So new to the universe, Luke was a small light in the Force already. There was a tinge of Anakin’s former sunshine and a hint of something distinctly Padme. Obi-Wan wanted to cry, sob his heart out, but he couldn’t. Not now. 

What was he going to do with Luke?

The thought went round and round in his mind as he cared for the baby with his limited knowledge of infants. Everything was makeshift, from diapers to something to clothe the Luke’s nakedness. He’d managed to finagle some sort of heavily watered-down gruel from the food stores, but it wasn’t sufficient. The baby needed something more nutritious.  
It was at least a day from Alderaan to Tatooine. And then Obi-Wan had to decide where Qui-Gon would have gone with the younglings.

Something niggled in Obi-Wan’s memory and, as he rocked his body to put Luke to sleep after a satisfying burping session, he tried to coalesce the memory into something cohesive. Tatooine. Everything came back to Tatooine. What did Dex know that he didn’t?

Well, Obi-Wan reasoned, Anakin had no more ties there. His mother was deceased. Anakin hadn’t been overly forthcoming but both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon got the impression she’d been a victim of the harsh planet’s lifeforms. They hadn’t pushed, sensing Anakin was grieving. Perhaps, he thought ruefully, they should have found out the details.  
So, Anakin had no reason to go to Tatooine. His hatred of the place, his birth place, place of enslavement, and the loss of his mother, guaranteed Anakin would avoid the place at all costs. It might be a safe haven from Anakin and Palpatine for a while, but surely not indefinitely. There were other, more distant, places to go, however. Why Tatooine?

Obi-Wan focused his gaze absently on sleeping Luke. “So much of your mother, I sense in you, little one,” he murmured. A supernova went off in his mind. Mother.

Shmi had been freed and married a moisture farmer. Padme mentioned once Anakin had a step-brother. Could they-? Would they-?

The plan formed in his mind a little at a time. He hated it immediately but scenario after scenario bounced around his skull, brought about by his future vision gift. Luke, grown, learning to use a lightsaber. Confronting a tall, masked man who Obi-Wan knew was Anakin as the Sith Darth Vader. Himself, old, weathered, resigned to his own end, but alone. No sense of Qui-Gon or the younglings they’d found at the Temple. He knew in an instant it was because they’d parted ways, hard and horrifying for them though it had been. He and Qui-Gon had been together for decades, first as master and apprentice and then as bonded lovers.

Obi-Wan curled around the sleeping baby on the bunk and buried his face in the hard, utilitarian pillow. He swallowed heavily, trying to tamp down the misery of never seeing Qui-Gon ever again, not knowing his fate until the bond between them went dead. ‘I can’t!’ Obi-Wan raged at the Force. ‘There must be another way!’

The Force was silent on the matter of a different path.

The chamber’s little intercom system chirped and the pilot’s voice filtered through the room, “Master Kenobi, I’m picking up a galaxy-wide broadcast on all frequencies. You need to hear this.”

There was a moment of silence and a different voice, cold, hateful, and remorseless flooded the ship.

“-traitors to the Galactic Republic. The attempt on the life of Chancellor Palpatine and thwarted destruction of the Senate building on Coruscant was a last-ditch effort by the Jedi to destroy the ideals of the Republic. A thorough investigation for the past few years has brought forth that the Jedi have been undermining the Army of the Republic’s actions against the Separatists as well sabotaging the Separatists in order to destabilize anyone capable of defending against the Jedi Order itself when they made their move. We ask all citizens of the Republic to notify the authorities of any Jedi presence in your communities. These people claiming to be of peace and goodwill have become perverted by a need to control and remake what they think the galaxy should be. They would reduce your freedoms, steal your children for their armies of oppression. If you think the Jedi in your vicinity cannot be captured, execution by any means necessary is authorized. The Jedi must be exterminated for the good of the galaxy and the Republic’s long-held ideals.”

The pilot seemingly couldn’t stand to hear anymore for the broadcast shut off. Obi-Wan couldn’t move, couldn’t think, wasn’t sure he was even drawing breath.

“What do we do, Master Kenobi?” came the pilot’s voice, now suffused with uncertainty and fear.

Obi-Wan dragged his stunned brain to life and had to clear his throat twice to speak. “Maintain heading. Get us to Tatooine.”

“Tatooine isn’t exactly small,” the pilot pointed out. “Where on Tatooine?”

Obi-Wan’s knee jerk reaction was to say “Mos Espa” but something stopped him and forced him to reconsider. “Mos Eisley. It’s large enough to have a landing station, correct?”

“Sure. I’ll let you know when we are on approach.” There was a click that indicated the intercom had been switched off, leaving Obi-Wan alone in every sense, other than the innocently sleeping baby right next to him.

Hunted as traitors, like animals. There would be some who would give Jedi shelter, Obi-Wan knew. Worlds who had often depended upon the Jedi for maintaining peace or had a resident Jedi living on planet as a constant liaison with the Republic. Planets who had benefited greatly from a Jedi’s assistance in civil wars, inter-system disputes, or even finding the living in mudslides, avalanches or other natural disasters. How long would that last? Would they give up the Jedi when the pressure on them grew too much? Or when it came between the Jedi’s lives and their own?

Obi-Wan knew the answer sure as he knew his own name. The Jedi would be sacrificed and the Jedi would expect to be sacrificed, if it saved others in any way, shape or form. ‘By the Gods, Obi-Wan swore to himself, ‘brought to extinction by the very core values that distinguished us for thousands of years.’

He drifted, nightmare scenarios flashed by every time his eyes drifted shut, popping them open again in horror. Exhausted though he was, sleep wasn’t an option. Not now. He needed to get to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon may not have heard this. This changed everything. Obi-Wan’s plan to separate, him with Luke and Qui-Gon with the younglings, wasn’t an option now. While true that together all of them were hard to miss in the Force for anyone close and looking, apart they were equally sitting ducks. The adults’ attentions would be divided between their charges and the dangers around them. And now the danger was more than just the Sith and their clone trooper attack dogs. Eventually it would be the entire Republic and Outer Rim hunting them.

What in all the Sith Hells were they going to do?

* * *

Qui-Gon hammered another loose board to Gami’s roof and wiped at the sweat trickling down his face and into his beard. He’d already rehung the sand-blocking shutters on her windows and still had to reset the front door where it was hanging crookedly on its hinges.

Dinner last night had been a surprisingly pleasant occasion. Gami, species still undetermined, fed Qui-Gon and the four younglings simple but hearty food. She said nothing but filled the plates repeatedly until all had their fill. Qui-Gon hadn’t eaten a hearty meal in months and he feared he might have abused her hospitality but couldn’t help himself. He didn’t know what was coming and he needed to be in as top shape as he could get.

He herded the children back to their ship and told them grand stories of derring-do until they fell asleep. Qui-Gon dozed off and on, alert for trouble or news from the galaxy outside. He tried to sense Obi-Wan through their bond, but it was muted by the distance between them. Obi-Wan was alive, that was all Qui-Gon could tell. It would have to be enough, he sternly told himself.

Morning came with young, hungry bellies. Qui-Gon scrounged the last of the nutrition bars, tasteless and hard, to feed them. Haute cuisine they were not, but nutritious they were. Some weak tea from leaves found in the pantry washed down the bland breakfast and they exited the ship to head once more into Mos Eisley.

They met Gami at her adobe brick home, Qui-Gon received his work instructions and the elder being toddled off to her market stall. The wind, thank the gods, were not blowing hard today, but it still seemed as if the sand got everywhere. The children huddled inside the house while Qui-Gon worked.

Around mid-day, Gami stumped up, surveyed the work Qui-Gon had done and nodded almost happily. She even fed them all a small lunch before letting the children pick two scarves each. Qui-Gon only took one at first, thought about Obi-Wan, and added a second to his bundle.

Gami taught the children how to wrap the scarves about their heads to keep out the worst of the sand but not restrict their breathing. She was kind and gentle with them and her aloofness toward Qui-Gon eased as well. The fivesome followed her back to her market stall and joined her behind the table holding her wares. The children played games, with Qui-Gon cautioning them not to use the Force, while Qui-Gon sat peaceably with Gami, watching as she haggled, bartered or collected payment for her merchandise.  
The end of day came and Qui-Gon stood to gather the children to head back to the ship. 

“Gami,” he asked as he stretched muscles tight from a long day sitting, “is there anyone here that will allow us to buy food with Republic credits?”  
She pursed her flat lips in thought and then pointed down the road. “The grocer might. We don’t usually get anyone with Republic credits here. Since he imports almost everything, the credits may be useful to him.”

Qui-Gon nodded and made to move, but she stopped him with a hand outstretched.

“I don’t know what’s happened, Jinn, but it can’t be good if you have those four.” Here she jerked her head in the direction of the younglings. “Most here likely have taken you for a slaver. Don’t flash around your fancy weapon, no matter the danger. We’re close to Jabba the Hutt’s territory. He’ll be on you before you can blink. You know Force sensitives make prized slaves, especially young ones.”

“I know,” Qui-Gon reassured her. “You’ve been most kind to us, Gami.” He hesitated. “May we join you here tomorrow?”

She gave a slow blink as if surprised but nodded in an amiable fashion. “Certainly. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard the sound of children playing. Children here don’t play. They work or they are beaten. Let them keep their innocence as long as possible. I fear the galaxy will disabuse them of it soon enough.”

Qui-Gon gave her a rueful look. “I fear it’s too late for that, Gami. They will never be truly innocent ever again. They have seen, and felt, too much.”

Gami’s watery grey eyes saddened. “I feared so. Yes, join me tomorrow. I offer my protection, for what it’s worth.”

Qui-Gon touched her shoulder in gentle acknowledgement and gathered the children to head for the grocer’s up the street.

He ducked under the low lintel, his heart panging at the familiar motion, so like entering his home quarters in the Jedi Temple. The grocer’s was dim with little light, full of shelves with all sorts of things, from food and drink to clothing for all shapes and sizes. 

The younglings followed Qui-Gon closely, looking around, eyes wide, but touching nothing. Qui-Gon found the counter where a wild-haired human male sat on a backless stool, watching them with an assessing gaze.

“Greetings,” the man said to Qui-Gon. “What are you looking for?”

“Will you take Republic credits?” Qui-Gon asked right off the bat.

The man frowned a bit. “For now, anyway,” he said grudgingly.

Qui-Gon frowned as well. “For now?”

The man leaned forward. “Rumor is the Republic has fallen. Everything is in chaos in the Core. Credits might be worthless sooner rather than later.”

Qui-Gon’s heart sank. “I have no other means of payment but credits. Will you honor them anyway?”

The man looked Qui-Gon over and then sharp green eyes drifted to the children, looking them over very carefully. “They look worse for wear,” he noted.

“All of us are,” Qui-Gon agreed.

“What do you need?”

“What are you willing to let me buy?”

The man gave a sudden laugh, open and guffawing. “You twist words like a politician, friend. Your credits are good. Buy what you need and what you can afford.”  
Qui-Gon did. Each of the children got two changes of clothes, including a pair of sturdy shoes. He bought one for himself, rugged clothes typical of Outer Rim nobodies. Everything else was food. Simple, easy to make without wasting resources on the ship, but not so bland the children would eventually balk at eating it no matter how hungry they were. Tea, powdered flavoring for water to substitute for juice, and even a few sweets for a treat now and then. Qui-Gon did not forget they were children, so young and used to plenty at the Temple. Right now, they were content to follow his lead but in the way of all children, eventually they would get comfortable with things and start to act out from their stress, anxiety and fears. Something familiar and comforting would go a long way.

Though Jedi, they were still just children.

Qui-Gon piled their purchases on the counter and the grocer began tallying everything up. The total was a few credits beyond what Qui-Gon had. He put the shoes he’d chosen for himself back, along with the pants. He’d make do.

He passed over the credit stick and the grocer swiped it on his reader, transferring the balance to his accounts. When the grocer handed the stick back to Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon shook his head and said, “I don’t need it if it’s empty.”

The grocer pressed it into his hand and said, “It’s not empty.”

Qui-Gon frowned and looked down, reading the illuminated balance. Enough for maybe a meal for them all at a local cantina. He swallowed, looked up at the grocer and tried to say thank you, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words.

The grocer shrugged. “I know what you are. Moreover, I know who you are, Master Jinn. A Jedi helped me once, a long time ago, in my youth. I never got the chance to thank her or return in kind. Now I have. Do you need help getting this stuff to your ship?”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sent to the Force his whole-hearted thanks to that nameless Jedi before nodding. 

“I’m Egan Ruth. Originally, I came from the Yavin system. Lived on Coruscant for a while but hated it. Everything was so civilized, sterile, lifeless. So, I came here. Got more than I bargained for, thus that Jedi who helped me. Cleaned up my act, used some ill-gotten gains to open this store. I’m not pillar of the community but I’m not easy-pickings, either.”

“How do you know of me?” Qui-Gon asked, parceling out their purchases to each child, careful not to overburden them.

Ruth laughed. “I sometimes get holonet news from the Core. I’ve seen clips of you speaking to the Senate or fighting the war. You and that General Kenobi. And word spreads throughout the settlements. It’s not a secret you freed a slave by betting his freedom on a podrace and then trained that slave to be a Jedi.”

Qui-Gon wished he could smile but a cold hand gripped his heart. No one on this planet could know his identity. Gods! Why had Dex send them here?

“I’d appreciate it if you keep my identity a secret,” he managed to say urgently.

“I figured, what with you having children in tow.” Ruth glanced at the children, who were milling about helping each other get coordinated with their bundles. “I haven’t gotten any recent news, but it must be bad, if you’re here with them.”

“It is,” was all Qui-Gon could say.

Ruth only nodded, led them outside, locked up and followed them to the space port and their ship. Sending the children off to unpack and sort their things, Qui-Gon invited Ruth to eat with them.

“Nah, the wife is waiting for me,” Ruth said with a smile. He slapped Qui-Gon on the back companionably. “Your secret is safe with me, Master Jinn. Anyone comes looking for Jedi? I haven’t seen any in years on this rock.”

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon said humbly.

Ruth gave another smile, called a farewell to the children and departed. Qui-Gon raised the ramp and secured it tight from intruders. He checked on the children, who were pawing through their new things with surprising childish delight. He hoped they were taking this as some grand adventure. ‘Children are resilient,’ he admonished himself.

In the cockpit, he flipped on the communications array. He cycled through all the frequencies used by Jedi but got nothing but static. Until the last frequency. The one he and Obi-Wan used.

“I am coming to Mos Eisley. ETA 2 hours from Core Standard noon.”

That was it. But it was his Obi-Wan’s voice. It sounded weary and, alarmingly, frightened. There was more coming and it was likely to be worse than everything that came before.  
Qui-Gon sagged into the pilot’s seat. He wasn’t sure he could take anymore ill news. Everything seemed an unending nightmare, Egan Ruth and Gami’s aid and friendliness notwithstanding.

Qui-Gon slipped from the seat, folded himself on his knees in his standard meditation position and did something he hadn’t done since he was young.

He prayed.

* * *

Tatooine hadn’t changed much, no matter what part of the planet you landed on, Obi-Wan reflected. Sand everywhere, the only color as far as the eye could see was a yellowish-tan. With luck, this trip wouldn’t bring out a Sith apprentice.

It was doubtful Anakin was hunting Obi-Wan. The injuries Obi-Wan had dealt his former apprentice and friend may not have killed him but there would not be a speedy recovery by any means. But there were always the clone troopers. And bounty hunters. And- 

Obi-Wan shook himself out of the negative thoughts.

The pilot landed the little ship neat as you please. They had discussed on the journey here what to do. It had been decided Obi-Wan would part with some of the credits to give to the pilot as well as the ship. No matter what he and Qui-Gon decided, Obi-Wan no longer had need of a ship.

Obi-Wan exited with baby Luke tightly wrapped in his arms, got to the edge of the landing pad, and watched the ship take off. He hoped he’d guessed right. He hoped that Qui-Gon was here. Otherwise, Obi-Wan was in serious trouble.

He opened his senses and delicately let down the shields he’d put up around the bond he and Qui-Gon shared. He often visualized it as a vine, variegated and leafy, stretching between them. He mentally tapped it even as he moved into the meager shade of the walls of the landing pad.

An almost ecstatic gong sounded in his mind. Qui-Gon was here! Obi-Wan sagged a moment against the wall, relief pouring through him and along the bond. Obi-Wan followed Qui-Gon’s signature through the space port buildings and into the so-called town proper. The pack containing the few baby supplies he’d make-shift made hung from his left shoulder, baby Luke tucked in his right arm. The was a grunt and Obi-Wan looked down to see Luke awake and staring at him bemusedly.

Obi-Wan didn’t know much about babies and their physiology. Could the baby see him clearly? A bubble of spit formed on the babe’s lips and then a chubby fist waved cheerfully at him. Maybe so.

Qui-Gon’s Force signature, enhanced by the presence of the four younglings as well, led Obi-Wan to a low-awninged shop. A wizened old crone sat behind a table piled with all sorts of commodities. Qui-Gon sat next to her, beaming at him. The younglings Obi-Wan couldn’t see, but could hear, playing some sort of singsong game behind Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan stopped right in front of the table, in the awning’s shade. “I’m here,” he said simply.

“And I thank all holy beings for it,” Qui-Gon returned. He then motioned to Obi-Wan and spoke to his companion, “Gami, this is Obi-Wan. My partner.”

Gami eyed Obi-Wan carefully, as if taking his measure and trying to decide if he was trustworthy. Whatever she decided, Obi-Wan didn’t know but she picked a scarf up off the table and threw it in his face. “Put that on. Storm’s a-comin’. What are you carrying so carefully?”

Obi-Wan pulled the scarf over his head and angled so the two behind the table could see the baby. Gami gave a grunt of surprise but Obi-Wan was looking at Qui-Gon’s reaction. Qui-Gon understood immediately, Obi-Wan saw, if the sadness darkening those expressive blue eyes he was reading correctly.

“Padme?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Dead. She didn’t survive the birth.”

Qui-Gon gave a huff and reached out a hand over the table to stroke the baby’s forehead. “Does the babe have a name?”

“Padme named him Luke.” Obi-Wan hesitated before continuing. “His sister is Leia.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes snapped to his, widening in alarm.

“Bail has Leia. I thought it best to separate them. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Anakin lives?”

Obi-Wan took in a shuddering breath, tamping down the guilt, both from not killing Anakin and the damage he’d done to the man. “Last I saw.”

Qui-Gon gave a nod, but his eyes were far away, calculating. “I spent most of my credits on food and clothes for the younglings. We’re going to need more supplies for the baby.”  
Gami’s eyes swiveled between them as they spoke. “Grocer can’t help with that,” she interrupted. “You’ll have to see old Kallah.”

“Kallah?” Qui-Gon inquired.

“I guarantee she won’t take credits,” Gami told them bluntly. “Barter only.”

“Dex gave me a crap load of credits, Qui. I gave some to my pilot, as well as the ship that brought me here. We’re going to have to be frugal, depending on what we do next,” Obi-Wan reported.

“We’ll buy what this Kallah needs in order to barter what we need for young Luke here,” Qui-Gon decided. He gave a sideways glance at Gami, who gave one terse nod of agreement. “Or I can hammer boards on her house too. Whatever we need.”

Obi-Wan didn’t get the joke, but Qui-Gon’s comment made Gami give this nerve-grating laugh. “I’m sure her place needs work like mine did,” Gami told him.

Qui-Gon stood up and then glanced behind him uncertainly. Gami waved a hand. “I’ll watch the younglings, don’t you worry. Kallah lives at the edge of town that way,” she waved in the correct direction. “She’s a Weequay, you can’t miss her. Only one in town.”

Obi-Wan had actually never dealt with a Weequay but he’d heard stories about them. They weren’t an intelligent species, supposedly, despite a somewhat advanced civilization. Since Obi-Wan had no idea of anything in this town and Qui-Gon had been here longer he would defer to his partner in this. Besides, as usual, Qui-Gon seemed to be making friends and allies left, right and center.

The two Jedi headed for the edge of town, after Qui-Gon had explained to the four younglings that they were to stay with Gami, and to be alert for danger. Obi-Wan got a good look at the four children and swallowed hard. So young. So damned young. The children, however, nodded solemnly at Qui-Gon and resumed their play but in lower voices.

Qui-Gon glanced over at Obi-Wan and gave a small smile. Obi-Wan returned it. “The infant seems quiet,” Qui-Gon observed.

Obi-Wan looked down at Luke, who staring around at what little could be seen. “He’s only had one meal since he was born. I made some watered-down yuck from what the ship had in the galley. It never occurred to me to grab something when I was on Alderaan. All I could think of was getting out of the Core worlds, get to you.”

Qui-Gon looked disturbed by Obi-Wan’s confession. “And he’s not crying?” 

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile fondly at the baby. “A few grumbles and grunts, he made a couple of screams as we were leaving Alderaan, but no, he’s most patient and blessedly quiet.”

“I can feel him in the Force,” Qui-Gon admitted. “I’ve never seen a Force-sensitive infant before. My Finding missions usually put me in contact with toddlers or older.”

“Leia is a little less a bright spot,” Obi-Wan explained. “She has a Force presence but not as strong as Luke’s.” His voice turned plaintive as he begged Qui-Gon to understand his decision. “I didn’t want to separate them but I thought if we had two infants and four younglings, we’d be a lure in the Force hard to ignore. Plus, our attention would be divided between the children and what we needed to do to keep them safe.”

Qui-Gon halted and Obi-Wan followed suit. Qui-Gon brushed a hand across Obi-Wan’s bearded cheek in a gentle, affectionate gesture. “We can only do what we think is best. Time will tell if it was the correct decision. I am not angry, or disappointed, or upset with your decision, my love.”

Hearing that absolution from the man he loved and trusted above all else seemed to release something within Obi-Wan. His eyes blurred with tears and Qui-Gon brushed them away. Obi-Wan struggled to get hold of his emotions. This still wasn’t the time or place to fall apart.

They resumed their walk and soon came to an adobe, one-room hut with crumbling walls and a roof that looked nearly caved in. The sign, in Core Standard, Huttese and a script Obi-Wan didn’t recognize read “Kallah. Mid-wife.”

Qui-Gon rapped on the door briskly and loudly. 

“What?” snapped a voice on the other side.

“We have need of Kallah’s help,” Qui-Gon replied.

The door wrenched open, not from agitation but because the hinges were rusted and sand-encrusted and the door mismatched for the jamb. Obi-Wan blinked at the figure framed in the doorway. He’d seen pictures of Weequays, of course, but he’d never actually seen one.

If this…creature… was Kallah, she was not ‘old’ like Gami claimed. Obi-Wan judged the Weequay to be of middle years, dark eyes sharp and hair braided tightly to her skull. Her skin was leathery, but from Tatooine’s suns or her species natural condition was anyone’s guess. Kallah’s eyes, black as pitch, skimmed the two human males and landed directly on the bundle in Obi-Wan’s arms.

“Slave or orphan?” she rasped.

“Orphan,” Qui-Gon told her. “We have no means for his care. We were told you could assist us.”

Kallah eyed them both as if determining their truthfulness. Whatever her decision was, she stepped aside and motioned them into her home.

Though it looked caved-in on the outside, no sign of the roof being damaged showed inside. The crumbling outer walls didn’t affect the inner either. Everything was neat, tidy, clean as possible considering the environment, and full of all sorts of colorful and interesting objects.

“Species?” Kallah snapped, reaching for Luke.

Obi-Wan hesitated then reasoned he and Qui-Gon could stop her before she harmed the child, if that was her intention. He handed her the swaddled child as he answered, “Human male.”

“Hmm.” The mid-wife expertly unwrapped Luke and examined him carefully. She checked fingers, toes, peered into Luke’s eyes and mouth, checked his ears and nose and brought the baby up to her ear to listen to his heartbeat. “Perfectly healthy, if very hungry. How long ago born?”

“Two days ago,” Obi-Wan replied.

Kallah looked at him hard and he fought the urge to fidget. “Where mother? Where father?”

“His mother died in childbirth. His father…” Obi-Wan faltered here. 

“He is a bad man,” Qui-Gon answered for him. Kallah turned to Qui-Gon now. “If we left the babe with his father, the child might have been harmed. We couldn’t allow that to happen.”

The mid-wife’s eyes narrowed, not with misgivings, but with understanding. “Noble,” she grunted, placing Luke on a narrow table that was grooved enough to cradle a baby of any size and shape. 

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon shared a look. She believed them? It was the truth, certainly, but here in the harsh living of the Outer Rim worlds, noble behavior was not an often-seen commodity.

Kallah bustled around, gathering things. She jerked the ruck sack off Obi-Wan’s shoulders and began filling it with bottles, cloth, and packets of something Obi-Wan couldn’t discern. She paused a moment and then looked over at them. “How you pay?”

“What do you need?” countered Qui-Gon.

She pursed her leathery lips a moment. She glanced between them and then to the baby thoughtfully. “So young,” she whispered as if to herself. She shoved more things into the ruck sack then tossed it back to Obi-Wan. “Sit,” she commanded them.

The two Jedi found chairs to sit upon and waited for her price.

“All those old enough to have children go away. No babies in two years. None to come either.” Again Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon shared a look, this time of confusion. “You leave here? Run away?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and replied, “Yes. We can’t stay long.”

“I go with you. You know nothing of babies,” she added derisively.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to argue but Qui-Gon gave him a hard nudge through the bond. He snapped his mouth closed.

Qui-Gon leaned forward. “Kallah, we don’t know where we are going. We don’t know if there will be welcome or even grudging aid. We have four younglings as well. The ship is small, not much room.”

Kallah glared at them both. “I know. Lived worse. I see you with children, with Gami. Baby needs more than idiot men.”

Qui-Gon sidled a glance at Obi-Wan and the younger man knew exactly what Qui-Gon was thinking. He wanted to argue but the Weequay woman was right. Neither he nor Qui-Gon knew a damned thing about babies. It would strain their supplies, she would be another to protect. He hadn’t even told Qui-Gon yet about the broadcast declaring Jedi enemies of the Republic, traitors to be destroyed. So many things were wrong with allowing her to come, but Luke’s well-being was priority. They owed Padme that much, at least.

Qui-Gon seemed to pick up Obi-Wan reluctant acquiescence. “Very well, Kallah,” Qui-Gon told her with a smile. “You may come with us when we leave.”

Kallah grunted as she stood. “Good. Keep your word I trust. You not foolish.” She gazed down at Luke, who was waving chubby arms and legs in the air, as if relishing not being so tightly bound. “When we leave?”

“We don’t know yet,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I just arrived. We haven’t spoken of our plans yet.”

She nodded and turned business-like. “In pack changing clothes, bottles to feed, and formula. A pinch of powder in water, shake, then feed. Little bit goes long way. Little pinch. Most healthy.”

“We will talk tonight, Kallah, and return tomorrow to speak with you again,” Qui-Gon promised her. “I see you have many pretty things. We have a small cargo hold. We can take some but not all.”

Her eyes looked sad as she looked around at her treasures. Obi-Wan could see they were actually worthless but they made this hovel a home and that made all the difference. “I understand,” she said simply. “Come tomorrow. We will talk more.”

She ushered them out once she’d reswaddled Luke in his blanket, making sure to tuck a corner over his face since the wind and sand had picked up in ferocity outside. The two Jedi wrapped their faces with the scarves, waved at her and headed back to Gami’s store front.

Gami was dropping the awning as they approached. She appraised them quickly. “With me or your ship?” she asked in her blunt manner.

“Our ship tonight, Gami,” Qui-Gon answered her, motioning the younglings over to him. “We will see you tomorrow, storm permitting.” She nodded, finished tying everything securely and set off for her home. They turned their steps to the space port, herding the children after making sure they had their faces properly covered.

The sand storm grew in intensity with every step, it seemed. The children were struggling and their fright battered Obi-Wan’s already strained mental shields. Qui-Gon herded everyone to the great hulk that he and Obi-Wan had commandeered on their flight to Coruscant, punching in the security code and hustling the children up the ramp almost before it finished lowering. The adults, baby in tow, hurried aboard right behind them, Qui-Gon punching the close button and setting the security.

Scarves were pulled from faces and dribbles of sand pooled around their feet. They brushed sand from their clothes, adding to the mess. Obi-Wan looked the children over: a Twi’lek, a Rhodian and two humans. Well, three humans, he thought ruefully, glancing down at the still-covered Luke.

“Children,” Qui-Gon said in a soft, reassuring tone, “this is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The Twi’lek boy’s amber eyes widened. “You’re on the Council,” he said breathlessly.

Obi-Wan smiled slightly but nodded. 

“Master Kenobi, is that a baby?” asked the Rhodian girl.

He knelt down, ignoring the twinge in his abused muscles, and revealed Luke to them. The four children gathered around and cooed at the infant. Luke just blinked up at them before giving another one of his ear-piercing screams.

Obi-Wan winced. “I don’t know why he does that,” he confessed. “He doesn’t cry. He only cried when he was born but it wasn’t for very long.”

Qui-Gon gave him a startled look. Obi-Wan knew what his love was thinking: that’s not normal.

“He needs to be fed,” Qui-Gon declared. “We all do. Children, to the galley. We’ll eat and then talk.”

The children did as they were bid, obedient and calm. Obi-Wan would have marveled at how calm they were but they were Jedi children, he reasoned. Above the ordinary.

As the children disappeared into the galley down the short corridor, Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. “The two human children have not spoken that I have heard. They rarely let go of each other as well. Daen had to tell me their names. He said he is eight, had just made his first lightsaber. The humans I guess around three or four, maybe five. The Rhodian, Jala, is probably six or seven.” Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a fond, indulgent smile. “She reminds me of what you must have been like at that age.”

Obi-Wan blinked at that, but didn’t comment on it. Later, perhaps. “We have much to talk about. Plans to make, discard and make more to replace them.”

Qui-Gon’s blue eyes lost their fond brilliance, dulling, and Obi-Wan wished he’d kept his damned mouth shut. “I know. Food first. Get the children fed and settled. Then we can talk.”

The food Qui-Gon bought was hearty and nutritious if not the best tasting. No one complained, however, eating with gusto and a little bit of childish chatter. Obi-Wan filled the feeding bottle as Kallah had dictated, using the Force to warm it up a little, before plopping it into Luke’s mouth. The baby suckled eagerly and Obi-Wan felt a twinge of remorse that he hadn’t gotten supplies before now. A newborn was weak and needed immediate care. He’d done so little but Luke was strangely resilient and uncomplaining. It was like he knew Obi-Wan was doing his best.

Obi-Wan put the baby over his shoulder and pat his back to urge a belch to release the gases built up. He’d seen this in holovids and remembered seeing it done on his missions by local mothers. Luke gave a mighty burp that caused the four children to giggle and Qui-Gon to chuckle. Obi-Wan only smiled as he brought the baby off his shoulder. Luke had a satisfied look on his face and was blinking sleepily.

“There are only two sleeping rooms,” Qui-Gon told him. “One for us, one for the children. What we’re going to do with Kallah, I have no idea.”

“We’ll discuss that,” Obi-Wan promised. He followed Qui-Gon and the children to their quarters. There was only one bunk and the two humans, Sal and Reja, seemed to have commandeered it, mainly by dint of they refused to let go of one another and needed the room. Daen and Jala had made little pallets on the floor nearby.

Obi-Wan wanted to rage against the universe. It wasn’t right! 

Obi-Wan’s arm was getting a cramp from holding Luke so Qui-Gon took the now sleeping infant, cradling him in an expert fashion in one arm. Then, Qui-Gon began to speak. He told the children a story of a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, of a monster with snakes for hair and a man riding a winged graceful beast. Obi-Wan had no idea where Qui-Gon heard these stories, as Obi-Wan had never heard them himself, but the children listened raptly as Qui-Gon told how the snake-headed monster was defeated and the winged beast transported the hero high into the heavens. Their little heads began to droop, mouths yawned uncontrollably and, as Qui-Gon was finishing up, four little bodies curled into their meager beds to fall asleep.

The two adults tip-toed away, closing the door silently behind them. They stared at each other for a long minute before, as one, they turned to the second sleeping chamber. Obi-Wan entered first and collapsed into the little chair bolted to the floor by a tiny table. Qui-Gon set Luke gently on the bunk and walked over to Obi-Wan, leaning down and nuzzling his cheek.

“Tell me,” Qui-Gon commanded.

Obi-Wan spoke, what he sensed of the fight between Yoda and Palpatine, finding Padme, her refusal to believe Anakin had Fallen, their mad chase after him to Mustafar, Anakin’s brutal words to Padme that caused her to collapse, Obi-Wan fighting Anakin all over the nightmare-inducing landscape. He spoke dispassionately of Anakin’s recklessness, of Obi-Wan taking one limb after another in an effort to stop Anakin but which only spurred the obsessed young man further. The hate in Anakin’s voice and the heart-wounding words spewing from his mouth. How the Force reverberated with the Dark Side and the hate he felt for Obi-Wan, for Padme, for Qui-Gon, for the Jedi, for the universe. How Obi-Wan couldn’t make the killing blow, though he knew he should, though his brain howled at him to do it even as his heart told him not to. How he’d just walked away from Anakin, who was clawing up the embankment of a lava riverbed with his one remaining limb, still shouting hate and abuse at Obi-Wan’s retreating back.  
Padme’s labor, her death. The epiphany he’d had, giving Leia to Bail, then heading for Tatooine. He stopped here. He’d said so much, such horrid and horrible things. Could he say this last one?

In the course of his descriptions, Qui-Gon had pulled him to his feet, undressed him, used some of their water supply to sponge off his body and wipe his hair a bit cleaner. In just his small clothes now, Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon as he undressed and washed as well. Qui-Gon then pushed them onto the bunk, cradling the sleeping baby between them before speaking.

“What else?”

“Jedi have been declared enemies of the Republic. Any Jedi should be turned over to the authorities as traitors. If they do not surrender, they are to be killed by any means necessary.”

Qui-Gon was silent for a very long moment. Obi-Wan fought the urge to fidget. He kept his eyes glued on the graying hair on Qui-Gon’s chest. Obi-Wan felt millennia old; how did Qui-Gon feel?

“We can’t stay here. Gami and the grocer, Egan Ruth, know me as a Jedi. Now you are here. We have children with us. We are vulnerable. Though Gami and Ruth say they won’t turn us in, this is a dog-eat-dog world. With the right incentive, monetary or threat of torture or death, they might turn on us. The question is, where do we go?” Qui-Gon’s voice was placid, calm, but in the Force Obi-Wan could sense his former master’s roiling emotions. Qui-Gon was barely holding it together himself.

“I don’t know. I thought-“ Here he hesitated. Qui-Gon would not take this well. Was now the time to bring it up?

“Tell me.”

“I thought to give Luke to Shmi Skywalker’s step-family. Didn’t Anakin mention a step-brother and father? I would live a hermit in the wilds of the desert, keeping watch over Luke until he grew up. You would take the younglings and hide as best you could. Train them.”

Qui-Gon’s body tensed, hard as any stone statue. “No.” It was an unequivocal answer.

“It’s not ideal,” Obi-Wan admitted, “but-“

“No. Off the table. What else?”

Obi-Wan knew he should argue but honestly, he didn’t want to do it either. “Wild Space. Or maybe the Unknown Regions?”

He looked up to see Qui-Gon staring at him thoughtfully. “Ilum?”

Obi-Wan hesitated, thinking. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “It’s a known Jedi location, likely to be checked in a reasonable amount of time. And the few Jedi that live there likely have no idea anything has happened, unless they sense something in the Force. We could go there, warn them. Collect crystals, as many as we can carry.”  
Qui-Gon said nothing for a moment but Obi-Wan saw he was rolling the plan around in his head. “Then where?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “So much isn’t known about the Unknown or the Wild Space. We could be going from the pan to the fire.”

“And this ship has little defensive capabilities,” Qui-Gon noted with a calm Obi-Wan certainly didn’t feel himself.

“Can this ship make it the long journey to Ilum?” he asked.

Qui-Gon let out a gusty sigh. “Probably not.”

“So, we need to find other transportation. Bigger, better arms, and space for everyone. Dex gave me a lot of credits, but not that much credits.” 

Qui-Gon’s lips twisted into a wry expression. “We have to use other persuasive means as an added incentive.”

Gods. Qui-Gon meant Force manipulation. Well, reasoned Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon’s unorthodox methods were going to come in spectacularly handy from now on. Obi-Wan’s almost fanatical need to follow the Code now meant not a damned thing. It was time to think like a Gray Jedi, a maverick, an unknown quantity. It was time to think like Qui-Gon. That was never Obi-Wan’s strong suit. Qui-Gon’s thought processes were always an intriguing, if exasperating, mystery to Obi-Wan.

He rubbed his bearded cheek against Qui-Gon’s chest, reveling for a moment the comfort of being in his love’s arms. The Council had gone ballistic when they announced their intentions of bonding all those years ago. Qui-Gon had faced them down with his usual calm collectedness while Obi-Wan had given into his fidgeting worry. After the furor died down, Master Mace Windu had asked one question. “Why?”

Qui-Gon answered with one word as well. “Devotion.”

Whatever passed between the two contemporaries was apparently all that was needed. The bonding was approved (not that it would have stopped them but it was nice to have) and they became the first bonded pair in ages. For awhile, they’d been a novelty among Jedi. Anakin had a ton of questions about it. Soon the curiosity died away and it was just a commonplace thing, a Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan thing. 

Now, Obi-Wan wondered if it was going to work against them. The galaxy, hell the universe, was topsy-turvy. Strategically he knew splitting up was the better option, but like Qui-Gon, the fear of not knowing how the other was doing, living, or maybe dying would eventually get to him, drive him insane. And if the bond went dead because one of them was captured and killed…

Obi-Wan didn’t want to think about it.

Perhaps Qui-Gon was right. They should stay together, draw strength from each other. However, that didn’t solve the immediate problem.

“What do we do?” Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon grunted. “We ask for help.”

“From who?”

“Whoever will give it.”

“That may be a few now, but for how long before clone trooper boots stomp about in a threatening manner?” Obi-Wan shivered, remembering how Cody, his trusted second-in-command had turned on him so effortlessly, so coldly, and opened fired. The warning in the Force had given Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, who was visiting their location, a heads-up but it hadn’t stemmed the shock, betrayal and confusion they’d felt.

“We just have to get there before the clones do,” Qui-Gon said simply, as if it were obvious.

“Did you have some place in mind?” Obi-Wan asked a bit nervously.

Qui-Gon smiled and hugged Obi-Wan closer to him, placing a kiss in his unruly copper hair. “Go to sleep. Don’t roll over on the baby. I know just what to do.”

Feeling like he should be reassured, but wasn’t, Obi-Wan did as he was bid. He was tired. Beyond tired, actually. The stress, the worry, the constant on-the-move, second guessing and plotting had taken its toll. He needed rest. For now, they were safe. 

Safe. Something he hadn’t truly been in years.

* * *

Qui-Gon left Obi-Wan with the children the next morning and ventured into town to collect Kallah and farewell those who had helped them. He returned an hour later, lugging a trunk that looked made of some rare but solid wood, while Kallah had two large packs on her back. They stored the trunk in the cargo hold but when they offered her the bed in the ‘adults room’ she shook her head and made a pallet with the children.

She also confiscated Luke right out of Obi-Wan’s arms without so much as a by-your-leave. Obi-Wan was strangely fine with that.

He and Qui-Gon took up the pilots’ seats, made the necessary arrangements for take-off and soon had the ship breaking orbit. Tatooine receded behind them and Obi-Wan gave a sigh of relief.

“I agree.”

Obi-Wan slanted his eyes to Qui-Gon, who was staring at him with this strange quirk to his lips. 

“You seem strangely cheerful this morning,” Obi-Wan observed. 

Qui-Gon’s expression turned mischievously sly. “Well, we haven’t had much private time together recently and I highly doubt we’re going to get any in the near future. This morning’s interlude, quick though it was, was most welcome.”

Obi-Wan flushed, his mind’s eye going back to Qui-Gon, arching his back as Obi-Wan sucked down his cock. It had felt a bit strange to Obi-Wan to be engaged in sex of any kind with a sleeping infant in the same bed, but their eventual mutual release had indeed been a long time coming.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Obi-Wan said dryly. Qui-Gon laughed at Obi-Wan’s slight discomfort, like he always did. “So, what’s this brilliant idea of yours? Where are we going?”

“My home planet.”

Obi-Wan arched an inquiring eyebrow.

“I have a contact there, admittedly a bit dubious but he owes me a rather large favor that I intend to collect.”

“Is it a big enough favor to warrant a larger, better equipped ship?” Obi-Wan asked skeptically.

Qui-Gon gave him a wink as he stood up and stretched his long frame in a sensual manner that made Obi-Wan audibly gulp. “Oh, yes,” Qui-Gon told him, “I’m sure of it.”

It took a Standard day cycle to reach the planet Dendora, Qui-Gon’s home planet. Obi-Wan remembered with a pang the rock Qui-Gon had given him on his thirteenth birthday from the River of Light on this planet. It had been left behind, like most of their few belongings, on Coruscant. 

Dendora looked peaceful from orbit, a kind of gray, cloudy looking planet orbiting a small sun. Qui-Gon had never spoken of his home planet much, so Obi-Wan didn’t know what to expect. They made contact with a space port and entered the atmosphere.

Once they broke free of the cloud coverage Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. There was green everywhere. Not a riotous jungle or swamp, but fields of green as far as the eye could see, broken up by homes, towns, and other terrestrial buildings. It was very bucolic. 

Settling down on the landing pad, Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan. “Get everyone together, even Kallah and Luke. I’ll track down my contact and arrange a meeting place.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Wouldn’t it be better to leave everyone here with Kallah?”

“I want to tug at his heartstrings, get a little bit of sympathy with their presence.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “You old manipulator,” he grumbled fondly but did as he was bid.

The children were curious but obedient as everyone exited the ship. Qui-Gon hired a speeder big enough for all of them and left the small space port area. Through green fields that grew crops Obi-Wan didn’t recognize, lined with native rock walls, they drove, the younger Jedi Master occasionally glancing worriedly at the gray skies overhead. It looked like it might rain any minute now.

It never did.

After an hour, Qui-Gon stopped on the outskirts of a largeish town, the house a bit ramshackle mainly from laziness than any inability or lack of funds. This was confirmed by the presence in a small overhang garage of a brand-new, top-of-the-line speeder bike. The cost of getting such a thing so far from the main Core planets had to have been astronomical. ‘This,’ Obi-Wan thought grudgingly, ‘could be promising.’

As the adults helped the children out of the speeder, a man stepped out from the house and watched them. Obi-Wan didn’t pay him much attention as he wrangled Sal and Reja from their seats, a difficult task as they wouldn’t stop holding hands. When he turned around, he did a double-take, looking at the man, then at Qui-Gon, back at the man, then back at Qui-Gon.

“You never call, you never write, not even a birthday card,” the man said, stepping forward. His hair, less gray than Qui-Gon’s but the same burnished brown, was cut short and his face sported a mustache but no beard. The men, though, could have been twins: same rangy, tall body, blunt chin, and easy, leonine grace. The man was dressed in fine cloth, but not ostentatiously so, the fashion simple. It contrasted heavily with their clothes, the drab linens of a Jedi’s tunic and pants and Kallah’s threadbare jerkin.

“El-Lon,” Qui-Gon greeted warmly, ignoring the rebuke. “You seem to be doing well.”

El-Lon hooked his thumbs into a belt loop and hunched lazily. “Well, you know how it is,” the man said modestly.

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan and held out a beckoning hand. When Obi-Wan stepped forward, Qui-Gon possessively hauled him to his side and slid a proprietary hand down Obi-Wan’s waist. Obi-Wan blinked but didn’t react.

“This is my partner, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

El-Lon took note of the gesture, smirked, but seemed to understand Qui-Gon’s message that Obi-Wan belonged to him. “Greetings, Kenobi. Last I heard about you, you were a snot-nosed punk trailing his tailcoats.”

Obi-Wan frowned and opened his mouth to reply just as the light went off in his head. “You’re brothers,” he said almost accusingly.

El-Lon laughed. “Yep! Both of us disreputable in our own ways. Come in, bring your hangers-on with you. You said I owed you a favor. Considering what you’ve brought with you, it’s going to be a hell of a story and a hell of a favor.”

Qui-Gon grinned down at Obi-Wan, who scowled at him in return. The two Jedi Masters ushered everyone in behind El-Lon. 

‘Wait until I get you alone, you maverick you,’ Obi-Wan mentally sent to his partner.

All he got was an impression of laughter.

* * *

Qui-Gon looked around his younger brother’s home with interest. El-Lon dealt in the black market, underground, shady side of things. The house’s modest exterior belied the interior: fine plush rugs, glittering objects d’art, fine carved wood crown molding and stair bannister, and when he peeked inside what was the dining room, the finest porcelains and silverware.

El-Lon led them to the back of the house, his study, and surprisingly, brought out some simple toys for the children to look at and play with. Qui-Gon decided not to ask. It had been some years since they’d spoken and the act had brought a small wave of grief from his younger sibling.

With the children occupied under Kallah’s watchful gaze, El-Lon waved them to a seat and settled in his own behind a heavy desk. “Jedi,” he began easily, “are persona non grata. If the rumors are true, you’re being hunted like wild nerfs.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “It’s true. It’s a long tale, brother, and I’m not sure how much time we have to tell it.”

“Give me the down and dirty then.”

“After Obi-Wan passed his trials, we jointly trained a boy of prophecy who was supposed to bring balance to the Force. He also passed his trials during the war and took an apprentice himself. He fell in love and married the senator from Naboo. We don’t know all the particulars and likely may never, but he fell to the Dark Side, the Sith did something to the clone troopers we fought beside. They turned on us and those Jedi who survived are being hunted. The Jedi Temple on Coruscant was the scene of wholesale slaughter. These younglings,” Qui-Gon motioned to the children behind him, “are all that’s left of the Temple. They killed everyone: children, ill, infirm, elderly, anyone Force sensitive and living in the Temple is dead.”

Whatever El-Lon had been expecting, that wasn’t it. He blinked stupidly at Qui-Gon several times before rallying his considerable intellect and cunning. “You’re on the run, with these four children, your former apprentice and,” here El-Lon tipped an appreciative nod to Obi-Wan, “lover, plus a Weequay who is nanny to a baby? Where does the baby fit in? Jedi too?”

“Our apprentice who turned to the Dark Side’s baby son. The senator from Naboo that he married died in child birth right after he failed to kill me,” Obi-Wan volunteered grimly.

El-Lon blew out a disbelieving breath. “Okay,” he said, rubbing his face vigorously. “Okay.”

Qui-Gon waited for his brother to catch up. It wouldn’t take long. El-Lon knew how the galaxy worked.

“You have a plan, you need something you can’t get, and you think, or rather hope, that I can provide?”

“Yes, pretty much,” Qui-Gon admitted.

El-Lon looked skeptical when he asked gamely, “And that is?”

“A ship large enough for all of us, with full defensive capabilities that can handle travel to the Unknown Sector and possibly the Wild Space.”

Qui-Gon mentally gloated that he’d stunned speechless twice now his normally unflappable con-artist of a brother. Obi-Wan picked up his gloating and shot him a stern look of disapproval. Qui-Gon resolved to explain later.

El-Lon looked at the children, who had stopped playing and were looking at him with identical solemn expressions, then to Kallah, who was holding baby Luke and squinting at him suspiciously, and then to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon could see the wheels spinning in his brother’s head, but what he was thinking was anyone’s guess.

“That’s a hell of a payment for the favor I owe you,” El-Lon finally said a bit weakly.

“Well, you would either still be incarcerated, if you hadn’t been shanked, in that prison I found you in,” Qui-Gon mentioned reasonably. “Or dead in that hellhole backwater that I stumbled across with you backed into a corner by those slavers you had double-crossed.”

El-Lon grimaced and Obi-Wan made a slow head turn to look disbelievingly at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon ignored him. He sensed a lecture in his future from his more uptight partner.

“And then there was the time,” Qui-Gon went on but was interrupted when El-Lon raised his hands in surrender.

“All right, all right,” he conceded with a rueful chuckle. “I get the point. Big brother rescued me too many times and now he’s the one that needs rescuing.”

Qui-Gon sat back and waited with the infinite patience of a Jedi Master.

El-Lon blew out a breath, stood up and paced behind his desk a few steps. “It won’t be done quickly,” he warned. “And the legalities are going to be non-existent.”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “We can’t really afford to be choosy.”

“Speaking of afford, what assets do you have that I can use?” El-Lon stopped to stare at both of them assessing.

“About 10,000 Republic credits and a rather worse for wear Klemer P20 transport ship,” Qui-Gon told him honestly.

El-Lon made a face. “You might as well have nothing,” he groused. “There’s a reason no one uses Klemers. They are useless. No room, very little cargo and hardly any means of defense, plus slower than the Big Bang.”

“Is it worth more as scrap?”

“Hell, Qui-Gon, it is scrap!” El-Lon snapped. He shoved both hands through his bristly hair and then tapped a finger against his bottom lip. “I’ve got to think on this. I want to help, I do, but I don’t know if I can. Ships for what you need it for are not cheap, brother, no matter how rickety their condition.”

Qui-Gon thought a moment. “Do you have the setup for me to hack into an account on Coruscant and transfer the money you need to get what we want?”

El-Lon gaped at him, as did Obi-Wan. Both men said at the same time, though with different tones of disbelief, “What?”

“I have memorized various account information for some of the Jedi’s less,” here he shot Obi-Wan a guilty look, “well-known members.”

Obi-Wan outright scowled at him but said nothing. There were many branch-off sects of Jedi, but the Altisian sect was the one that had most intrigued Qui-Gon. They promoted relationships, of which Qui-Gon obviously approved, and taking more than one padawan, of which he did not. It wasn’t these Jedi that he was talking about, though. The Shadows, who were the black ops unit of the Jedi Order, were what Qui-Gon was referring to. Not many knew of their existence outside the Jedi Order. Or inside the Jedi Order for that matter. They were completely off the books, so to speak, but Qui-Gon over the years had learned a great deal about them and their methods.

El-Lon looked like he was going to ask a question and then thought better of it. He instead pulled out a top of the line data array from inside his desk, setting it before Qui-Gon after logging in. He scribbled an account number on a scrap piece of flimsi and pushed it forward. “Every blasted credit you can stuff in there,” he told his brother.

Qui-Gon nodded, hoped anyone else who had access to these accounts hadn’t drained them already and began typing. Some accounts were empty, but some were not, and Qui-Gon transferred the assets to his brother’s account, filtering it through other accounts and trying to cover tracks as best he could. He remembered every lesson in this his beautiful Tahl had ever taught him, mentally thanking her for it. It took some time. El-Lon walked over to play with the children and Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon with some alarm.

“I’m not going to ask,” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath.

“That’s for the best,” Qui-Gon agreed.

Obi-Wan leaned over and looked closer, his eyes widening. “That’s not Republic credits!” he exclaimed in a huff.

“Well, no,” Qui-Gon told him with a wry smile, “not entirely. Republic credits are entirely digital, imaginary if you will. This predates Republic credits. Whoever El-Lon deals with can go anywhere and cash in these denominations for whatever goods they want, primarily precious metals and stones.”

Obi-Wan blinked, thinking. “Diabolical,” he murmured.

“Outside the Republic, goods matter more than fake money. Hard, solid goods that can be used, traded, or hoarded. Credits are just numbers on a screen, transferred around, meaningless and worth only to people who use them.”

“And who knows how long that will be,” Obi-Wan noted.

“Exactly.”

“I hope we’re not screwing anyone else over doing this,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“Some of the accounts are already emptied. Someone else had the same idea.” Qui-Gon punched in the last account he knew of, found it empty, and backtracked his way out of his complex routing sequence. “All right, brother mine, see what you can do with that.”

El-Lon walked back to them, after tweaking the Daen’s lekku in a strangely paternal manner. He logged into his accounts and gaped. 

“Is that enough?” Qui-Gon asked cheekily.

El-Lon stared at him a moment and then a shit-eating grin spread across his face. “Oh, yes,” he said mock-casually, “I think I can do something with this.”

Qui-Gon nodded in satisfaction. “Do we return to our ship or do you have someplace for us to stay?”

El-Lon, distracted by the sheer amount of wealth dumped into his account, said absently, “I got room, no worries. I still can’t cook though.”

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan with no little pride. “That’s all right. Obi-Wan is quite the chef.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Now I know where you get it from,” he groaned. “It’s genetic. Let me guess, your parents were space pirates?”

Qui-Gon grinned.

* * *

Obi-Wan puttered around the top of the line kitchen, opening and closing cabinets, digging through the pantry, and perusing the chill box to evaluate what was on hand that he could cook enough of for the starving masses in the house. As he did, another part of his brain was dissecting the puzzle that was the Jinn brothers.

Qui-Gon never spoke of his family, but then neither did Obi-Wan. Both had been brought to the Jedi Temple very young, as was the way, and had rare if any contact with their families growing up. Obi-Wan came from a rather wealthy, aristocratic family and, on his twenty-first birthday, had gone back to his home planet to sign away his rights as heir. While only there three days, Obi-Wan had met his mother and father, as well as two younger brothers. It had been an interesting experience but he’d felt little to no connection to them. The Jedi were his family now.

Qui-Gon, apparently, knew of his family early on. Whether it had been some devise of his master, Dooku, or a chance meeting after being knighted, Obi-Wan didn’t know. It was apparent, though, that Qui-Gon had kept in contact at least peripherally with his younger brother. Qui-Gon had always been more emotionally invested in things, putting his heart into people around him, and sometimes paid for his deep loyalties and affections with heartbreak or betrayal. It had left deep scars on Qui-Gon’s heart, but still the man continued to give all his affections.

Obi-Wan had benefited from that many times, as Qui-Gon’s apprentice, knighted compatriot and lover. Qui-Gon’s friendships were often deep and unshakable. His love for Obi-Wan wrapped the younger Jedi in warmth and love even with great distances between them during the war. That Qui-Gon had met up with, become fond of, and maintain contact with his seemingly disreputable brother didn’t surprise Obi-Wan. Much.

Seeing the two brothers together also explained a lot about Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon had long been known as the maverick, the Gray Jedi, the one who barely towed the line of the Code and often jumped over it gleefully when he felt the Force backed him up on it. Qui-Gon’s methods could politely be called unorthodox and less politely be called heretical. It hadn’t fazed Qui-Gon in the slightest and it appeared his younger brother was cut from similar cloth, though on the more questionably legal end of the scale.

The difference an upbringing made, Obi-Wan supposed.

El-Lon had invited the children to go into the back yard to play. Kallah had gone upstairs with the baby, while Qui-Gon and El-Lon remained holed up in the study, plotting whatever mayhem Jinns plotted. Obi-Wan fled before they said something that made his blood pressure skyrocket, deciding that cooking would probably be the best use of his time and talents at the moment.

Pasta was bubbling in a pot, ground meat of unknown animal was sizzling in a skillet and Obi-Wan was systematically chopping vegetables for a salad when Qui-Gon entered the kitchen, sniffing avidly.

“For a man who supposedly doesn’t cook,” Obi-Wan said in a studied off-hand manner, “he has a lot of uncooked food just laying around.”

He looked up to see Qui-Gon grinning unrepentantly at him.

“Keep your secrets then,” huffed Obi-Wan, dumping vegetables in a giant bowl half-filled with a variety of fresh greens and such. 

Qui-Gon walked behind him and snaked an arm around his waist, jerking Obi-Wan close to the other’s rangy body. Qui-Gon began nibbling kisses on Obi-Wan’s neck, whispering as he did so, “Don’t be that way.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Sorry. I’m just –“ He shrugged.

Qui-Gon nipped at his earlobe before moving away. “I know. This goes against the Kenobi grain.” Obi-Wan made a face at Qui-Gon as the taller man moved around the island Obi-Wan was using for food preparation. “It goes a bit against my grain as well,” Qui-Gon admitted, “but we’re in survival mode now. We’ve done all we can. We have our own troubles and anything that can make our way easier and get us out of harm’s way, I’ll take it.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I understand, I do, and I agree. Especially with the five children in our care. Whatever means necessary. I just –“ He shrugged again, more helplessly this time.

“For now, Obi-Wan, we aren’t Jedi anymore. We’re refugees, exiles.”

Obi-Wan hunched his shoulders, placing the knife carefully on the cutting board, gripping the handle tightly. He took deep breaths, steadying the rising fear and panic that Qui-Gon’s words brought up. His bondmate was right, of course, they were refugees but Obi-Wan refused to believe they were no longer Jedi.

“I will be a Jedi until I take my last breath,” he said in a rush of air. He risked a look at Qui-Gon and saw the older man looking at him with understanding and a hint of pity.

“As am I, but we can’t act like one, we can’t react like one, or we’re dead and we’ll take those children with us.”

Obi-Wan flinched. They were silent for long moments before Obi-Wan picked up another vegetable and began slicing it into bite size morsels.

“El-Lon thinks he may have three sellers of potential transports that fit our needs.”

Obi-Wan looked up in surprise. “That was fast,” he remarked.

Qui-Gon’s mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Yes, well, lucrative profit finds instant interest and our offer is very lucrative.”

“Where? How do we inspect the ships without putting the children in danger? How long –“ Obi-Wan clapped his mouth shut when Qui-Gon raised an imperious hand. It was a leftover reaction from his padawan days and it usually annoyed Obi-Wan.

“You will remain here, with Kallah and the children. El-Lon and I will take our ship to inspect and hopefully make a purchase.” Obi-Wan frowned at the plan but mentally agreed it was the best. Qui-Gon fidgeted a bit and Obi-Wan’s narrowed his eyes at him. There was more and he wasn’t going to like it. “El-Lon wishes to go with us.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth fell open in astonishment. “What?” he squeaked.

Qui-Gon’s eyes turned sorrowful. “He tells me his wife and child died in a virus outbreak a few years ago. He is alone and lonely. He has no one and no prospects of a fulfilling future. He asked if he could join us, said maybe leaving here, seeing new places, and having new experiences will ease the grief and loneliness.”

Obi-Wan wanted to say ‘absolutely not’ but his brain reconsidered. If they got a ship large enough for what they would need to get to at least the Unknown Sector, two adults would not be enough if they ran into trouble. Kallah would be useless and the children even less than that, young and inexperienced as they were. An extra hand to do quick, down and dirty repairs, man a gunning station, or help defend if they were boarded wouldn’t go amiss. And if El-Lon was anything like his brother, he would be handy in all those instances.

“I have no objections.”

He looked up to see Qui-Gon beaming at him. He huffed and rolled his eyes. Really, it didn’t take much to make Qui-Gon happy. Obi-Wan smirked to himself. In more ways than one.

* * *

Qui-Gon trailed after El-Lon as they walked onto the space dock of Cloud City high above the planet of Bespin. Qui-Gon had been many places in the galaxy, seen many extraordinary things, but he had to admit, Cloud City was unique. And aptly named.

He tried to tuck his hands in the sleeves of his borrowed jacket but they weren’t wide enough. He gave a rueful smile at himself. Old habits died hard. El-Lon had dug around in his closet and found some clothes for Qui-Gon that didn’t look like anything a revered Jedi Master would wear. Qui-Gon’s only requirement was that the jacket was long enough to hide the lightsaber hanging from his belt. El-Lon had given him the stink-eye but complied.

The gas giant of Bespin gave Cloud City its name. The mining colony floated in the atmosphere of Bespin, with natural breathable air, not filtered or imported to be funneled through vents. There were areas that were a bit rickety but there were signs of constant construction. In time, if things continued to progress as they were, Cloud City would be a magnificent achievement of ingenuity.

El-Lon led Qui-Gon to a casino, so new that its signs were still temporary-looking despite the rather dazzling building. Qui-Gon had seen palaces of ancient regimes with less gilt and glamour. It was almost tacky, in his opinion. El-Lon flashed his identification to one of the bouncers at the door and Qui-Gon followed suit. El-Lon’s was real; Qui-Gon’s was fake.

Once inside, both brothers stopped to get their bearings. Qui-Gon stretched out his senses with the Force, but felt no immediate danger or hostility towards them. Everyone was focused on the gambling, the drinking and the occasional pawing of a waiter or waitress. No one was paying two tall humans any attention. Good.

El-Lon’s eyes, so similar blue to Qui-Gon’s, swept the casino. His stance was easy and relaxed but Qui-Gon knew his brother was no fool and would not hesitate to defend himself if harassed. El-Lon jerked his head at Qui-Gon to follow and they began to circulate through the crowds, El-Lon’s eyes constantly moving, looking for his contact.

“Jinn!” 

Both men tensed but when El-Lon turned to face the speaker, he had a wide smile on his face. The expression didn’t reach his eyes, which put Qui-Gon on alert.

“Toppo! I thought they threw you deep in a prison pit on Hoth and threw away the key?” El-Lon traded grasps with the hulking…well, Qui-Gon wasn’t exactly sure what Toppo was. He’d never seen a non-human like him before.

Toppo gave a snort and clapped El-Lon congenially on the back. “If I’d known it was you looking for a ship, I’d have charged double,” Toppo told him, not entirely untruthfully.

El-Lon gave a shrug. “We didn’t part on the best of terms, I’ll admit, but it’s been a long time. Another lifetime, it seems. I’m out of the business, one last job to repay a debt.” Saying this El-Lon turned to Qui-Gon, waving his hand airily. “Toppo Graffas, this is Gronow Ilet, my buyer.”

Toppo turned his six eyes on Qui-Gon and gave him a hard once over. Qui-Gon remained relax and harmless looking. Two sets of Toppo’s eyes blinked while the other four narrowed thoughtfully. Qui-Gon resisted the urge to squirm. Toppo was not a fool or easily fooled.

“Ilet. Where you from?” Toppo rumbled at Qui-Gon.

“Telos IV,” Qui-Gon lied. He pretended to hesitate as if deciding how much information to give. “With all the recent upheaval, I and several families have decided to find someplace hopefully more,” he paused again deliberately, “friendly.”

Toppo grunted at that. “All hell’s broken loose,” Toppo agreed. “The war was bad enough. Good for business in some ways, bad in others. The clones going mad, Jedi turned traitors and being hunted like rabid predators? I don’t know where you think you can go, but if I can supply your ship, I wish you the best of luck.”

Qui-Gon gave an apprehensive nod that wasn’t entirely feigned.

“Speaking of ships,” El-Lon interjected smoothly. “Nibs said you had something we would be interested in?”

Toppo’s mouth smacked once, twice, his huge jowls flapping at the motion. “Come with me,” the hulking giant said and they followed him to a surprisingly secluded corner. Once the three of them were settled, Toppo pulled out a small holovid recorder and activated it.

Both Qui-Gon and El-Lon gasped despite themselves. “That’s Duro,” Qui-Gon said a bit queasily. “They don’t sell those to just anybody. And it looks fairly new and top of the line.”

Toppo gave another smack of his mouth and nodded. “You know your ships,” he said approvingly. 

“How?” El-Lon demanded.

Toppo looked shifty. “Does it matter?”

The brothers looked at each other. “Duro put a lot of tracking devices in their schematics,” Qui-Gon said slowly. “The idea is to vanish without a trace.”

Toppo gave a smile that showed a lot of razor-sharp teeth. “All completely disabled, I assure you.”

“How?” demanded El-Lon again.

Toppo gave a sigh. “The war damaged the Duro shipyards. They still have output but not like before the war. They are still doing excellent work, but not being so picky as to who they sell to and why. This is a couple generations old, a bit before the war started, but still in good shape. Previous owner took good care of it, former pleasure yacht.”

Qui-Gon blinked. “That ship,” he said faintly, “will hold at least 100 people easily. A pleasure yacht?”

Toppo grunted. “The wealthy are weird.”

“What’s its defenses,” asked El-Lon skeptically.

“I had it modified when I came into possession,” Toppo told them. Qui-Gon didn’t want to think how Toppo acquired this ship. “Two back up systems, full, body-wide shields, environment and gravity on a separate power grid, and both manual and automatic gunners fore and aft.”

El-Lon took the little holo of the ship from Toppo and looked it over. “Toppo, I don’t understand.”

Toppo looked shifty, not because he was thinking of double-crossing them, but because Qui-Gon could sense the hulk was ashamed. It seemed incongruous with his persona.  
“I had it modified as a transport ship for refugees,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Refugees from where? Why didn’t you use it?” asked Qui-Gon sharply.

Toppo gave Qui-Gon a sad look. “Because the colonists on Purda were wiped out by the Separatists army before I could get to them.”

Purda. Qui-Gon closed his eyes. The Grand Army of the Republic never even got close to Purda to help. Rumors of the atrocities filtered to them, however, almost too horrific to believe.

Qui-Gon brushed the alien with the Force and felt the hulk’s sincere and honest guilt and sorrow at his failure. He reached across and grasped the thick wrist; he couldn’t even wrap his own large hand around it.

“I have no doubt you tried,” he told Toppo sincerely and with great sympathy. “The war took its toll on so many. It brought out the good in people, the compassion, the need to help, to save those in the crossfire. It also brought out the bad, the greed, the viciousness towards the innocent. That you tried to help, had the intention to help despite not being fast enough or even in time, says much of you, Toppo. I respect that.”

Toppo blinked all six sets of eyes at Qui-Gon. It took Qui-Gon a moment to realize Toppo was blinking back tears. 

“I thank you for the kind words, Ilet,” Toppo said gruffly. The sorrow was replaced by practicality and he looked at the two humans, the moment past. “Interested?”

El-Lon looked at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon nodded. “Yes. Let’s look it over and see if it fits my needs. I think it will but I want to be sure. A lot rides on the decision.”

Toppo gave a grunt and a nod. He stood up. “No time like the present. Galaxy’s going to shit faster than dysentery. No time to waste.”  
He led them out of the casino and back towards the space port.

* * *

Obi-Wan’s comm unit beeped and he answered immediately. “Kenobi.”

“Master.”

Obi-Wan’s insides froze. Shit, shit, shit!

“Anakin,” he said with a calm he absolutely did not feel.

“Where is my wife? Where is my child?”

Obi-Wan swallowed and thought quickly. If Anakin was within close enough range to tag Obi-Wan’s comm unit, they were in a shitload of trouble.

“Master!” Anakin’s voice was demanding but it also cracked with emotion. Anger, fear or something else, Obi-Wan couldn’t discern.

Obi-Wan sent a flare of panic through his bond with Qui-Gon even as he spoke, “Anakin, Padme died in childbirth.”

“You lie! You stole her!”

Obi-Wan felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that, Anakin. I had her remains taken to Naboo, to be interred by Naboo traditions.”

There was a crackly silence, which gave Obi-Wan a bit of hope. Static meant more long range.

“And my child?”

“Safe, I promise you.”

“You will deliver the child to me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, or there will be no hole you and that aged reprobate you call a bondmate can crawl into that I won’t find you.”

“No, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said resolutely, sending another tendril of ‘hurry the hell back’ down the bond to Qui-Gon. “The babe stays with us. Whatever life you lead now is no place for an innocent.”

He could almost hear Anakin grinding his teeth in impotent rage. “Everyone was right. Jedi are baby stealers.”

Obi-Wan wanted to retort that there was no way in hell Padme would have given Anakin custody with her dying breath, but refrained. Antagonizing the Sith Lord is a bad idea.

“Only when the child is in danger,” he said softly instead.

“I would never hurt my baby!” Anakin screamed.

“But Palpatine would, to make sure you stay loyal and under his command. No, Anakin. Hunt us down if you must, destroy the galaxy in your rage, but we will not hand over this child to you. Ever.” Obi-Wan cut off the transmission and immediately shouted for Kallah.

“What? Baby just put to sleep,” she said gruffly.

“We have to move. NOW.” Obi-Wan tamped down the panic and tried to make a plan. Qui-Gon and El-Lon had taken their ship three days ago. Obi-Wan, Kallah and the children were essentially stranded. But if Anakin, or one of the tech savvy clones, could trace that comm call, it would lead them practically right to the door of this house.

“Why?” Kallah sensed his alarm but did not understand his urgency.

“Those who hunt us probably know where we are,” he told her, striding toward her to head out to gather the younglings.

She gripped his arms with a strength that belied her slender, almost emaciated frame. “Think,” she commanded. “Where we go?”

He took a deep breath, forcing the panic away. She was right. He knew nothing about this planet. All they had was a speeder bike not even remotely big enough to carry them all somewhere else safe. The reason the Jinn brothers had taken the speeder all of them had arrived in was because it was rented and had to be returned.

A faint tendril of concern and worry filtered through the bond with Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan sent back his alarm and feeling of being trapped, hoping that it would convince Qui-Gon that he and El-Lon needed to return as soon as possible. He thought about contacting Qui-Gon through the comm unit but, if the frequency was being monitored, it would be worse than reckless to do so.

Kallah gave him a hard shake to bring him out of his thinking. “You Jedi,” she admonished. “Defeated enemy once, can do it again. For the children.”

Obi-Wan gave shaky nod. “Do or do not, there is no try,” he muttered the mantra that Master Yoda had beaten into every youngling since the beginning of time.

“No place to go. Stay.” Kallah gave him what could loosely be considered a bolstering look and trudged away back upstairs where the baby Luke was sleeping.

Obi-Wan gave into the urge to go to the back door and watch the four younglings, more for his peace of mind that they were okay than anything else. Daen had organized them into levitating a blue ball of some sort around one to the other, catching it and throwing it gently with the Force, not using hands. It was a common game for the very young to learn control. No doubt for Daen it was old hat, but for the younger kids it was still a bit of a struggle. The ball occasionally bobbed up and down as it moved about.  
Kallah was right. They had to stay until Qui-Gon and El-Lon got back. There was no other choice, unless they ran and hid in the woods behind El-Lon’s house. It was an option if Clone Troopers came marching down the road, but right now, there was no reason to panic. Just be on his guard.

An insistent buzz sounded from inside the house and it pulled Obi-Wan’s focus from the children back inside. He followed the noise apprehensively to El-Lon’s study to a drawer  
in the desk. He opened the drawer and found a comm unit tucked away. He hesitantly pressed the receive button.  
“  
Obi-Wan?” came Qui-Gon’s worried voice.

Obi-Wan sagged with relief. “Thank all the Little Gods,” he breathed. “Anakin contacted me on my comm unit. Was a little, shall we say, perturbed? If that transmission can be traced, we’re sitting ducks, Qui-Gon.”

There was silence for a moment. “We have a ship. Finishing up the transfer protocols right now. It’ll take a day to return. Stay alert but keep in mind, if anyone Anakin and Palpatine sends is coming from Coruscant, it will take at least three or four Standard days, depending on the routes and traffic to get there. All of our last known information on the clones’ whereabouts doesn’t have any of them nearby either.” Qui-Gon’s voice turned reassuring but there was a hint of amusement as well. “Take a deep breath. Calm down. We’re fine. Just destroy the comm link. I’ll do the same for mine. We’ll stay in touch using this one of El-Lon’s.”

Qui-Gon’s firm, confident tone, heard so often during his life since he was thirteen years old, went a long way to calming Obi-Wan down. He wasn’t thinking, he was reacting. That’s what Anakin wanted. He wanted to flush them out. Obi-Wan almost did it. He had to think, plan, not allow his emotions to rule him.  
“  
All right,” he conceded. “But please, hurry?”

Qui-Gon’s voice turned affectionate. “We will. I love you, my heart, be safe and alert. Wait til you see what we bought. It’s going to blow your mind.”

Obi-Wan gave a huffing laugh. “Yes, I love you too. I’m sure whatever you found is more than adequate.”

“Indeed. Until later.” The comm shut down, leaving Obi-Wan in silence. He pondered a moment and then decided to join the younglings. 

Perhaps he’d lead them in some meditation exercises. The Gods knew, he needed it.

* * *

The ship was…well, Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure what it was, to be honest. Big enough, sure, but a bit frilly than what they needed. He hiked an eyebrow at Qui-Gon, who just gazed expectantly back, waiting on Obi-Wan’s opinion.

“It looks like a pleasure yacht,” he finally said.

“That’s because it was,” Qui-Gon told him.

Obi-Wan eyed him in askance prompting his bondmate to continue.

“Our seller, Toppo, alien of origins I have no idea on, said he modified it to be a refugee ship for those escaping Separatists.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “So, it has the room, but we need power, both weapon and engine.”

“It has that as well. Fore and aft gunners, modified for both automatic and manual use, shields more heavy than some troop transports, back up generators and power supplies, environmental systems separate from everything else, enough storage room for many food stuffs and we can fill up the water tanks and be set even if we use it liberally.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “Um.”

“It’s a bit large,” Qui-Gon admitted, “for the nine of us but if we find anyone on Ilum wanting to flee with us, we’ve got the capacity for them.”

“Nine?”

This…thing…poked its enormous head out of the main hatch and shouted at Qui-Gon, “Kids need toys.”

Qui-Gon gave an insouciant wave of acknowledgement of the order and turned with a sheepish look to Obi-Wan. “That’s Toppo.”

“And he’s here why?”

“Well, I tripped going up the ramp, watch your step by the way, and my lightsaber caught his attention. He knew then that my cover story was complete garbage and demanded the truth. So, I told him,” Qui-Gon said with a shrug.

Obi-Wan grit his teeth. “Masteeeer,” he said in his whiniest “I can’t believe you picked up another pathetic lifeform” padawan tone.

“He has no ties anywhere, knew something was wrong when Jedi were branded traitors, and informed us he was tagging along.” Qui-Gon spread his hands out in a “what could I do” gesture. “I couldn’t say no.”

“Did you still have to buy the ship?” Obi-Wan asked despite himself.

“As a matter of fact, no.” Qui-Gon gave him a grin of pleased triumph and Obi-Wan managed to not roll his eyes.

“Turning into a fiasco,” he muttered by obediently trod up the ramp at Qui-Gon’s gesture.

‘Spacious’ didn’t begin to cover it. Three galleys with full kitchens, small fresher units in most of the sleeping rooms, and a cockpit with enough space for a pilot and two copilots if needed, and an engine that would have made Anakin pea-green with envy made Obi-Wan realize that despite Toppo’s dubious inclusion in their merry band of exiles, the ship was perfect.

Qui-Gon trailed him, exuding a smug air that made Obi-Wan want to throttle him after a good blow job as a reward for a job well done. The children were still at El-Lon’s house with Kallah. The men would get everything ready, El-Lon reasoned, then load everyone up and get the hell out as fast as possible.

“Does this planet have the stores we need to supply ourselves for up to a year’s travel?” Obi-Wan asked, leaning against a bulkhead by one of the galleys.

Qui-Gon nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem. Plenty of water as well. It won’t be fresh food, no way to store it long term, but frozen meats and preserved everything else. We’ve eaten worse. I’ll even load up some nutrient bars as last resort supplies.”

Obi-Wan grimaced at that, but agreed. “Very well. If you’re right and Anakin is sending anyone from Coruscant we’ve got at least two more days before they arrive.”

Qui-Gon boxed him in, arms on either side of his head. Those blue eyes that made Obi-Wan think of ocean blue waters smiled down at him with warmth and love. “We’ll be all right,” Qui-Gon told softly and then leaned down to steal a kiss.

A peck, once, twice, turned heated, heads slanting for better access, tongues sliding against each other almost frantically. The heady taste of Qui-Gon’s tea and his natural musky smell lit Obi-Wan’s brain up like an overloaded circuit. He clutched at Qui-Gon’s borrowed tunic to pull his lover closer to him.

Qui-Gon pulled back a moment to allow them to catch a breath, rubbing his nose against Obi-Wan’s in a manner Obi-Wan as youth thought looked dumb but later found out was erotic as hell. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and just felt: Qui-Gon’s arousal filtering through the bond, his own desire humming through his body, the tingling of his lips and Qui-Gon’s soft breath against his cheek.

“I love you so much,” he whispered almost brokenly. “If anything happened to you-“ He couldn’t finish.

Qui-Gon’s fingers brushed his cheek and down his neck in a soft caress. “You would grieve and move on,” the older man told him as he had done a thousand times during the long war years. Obi-Wan made a noise of protest and shook his head in denial, but Qui-Gon stopped the motion with both hands. “You would, my love, just as I would if it were reversed. Remember: there is no death, there is only the Force.”

Obi-Wan took a fortifying breath. “It’s a moot point,” he managed to say with a bit more firmness. “We’re going to live forever.”

Qui-Gon chuckled even as he nuzzled Obi-Wan’s ear. “If you say so. You are the oh so wise Council member, party to great secrets of the Force I only dream of.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and then rolled them. “Laying it on thick, aren’t we?” he asked archly. Qui-Gon only grinned unrepentantly. “I get the point, you old rogue. I’m being melodramatic and you think it’s cute.”

Qui-Gon stepped away and not so subtly adjusted himself in his trousers. “Everything you do is cute, even if it’s gross.”

“Ugh.”

“If you two are done with the mushy stuff?” Toppo’s voice, sounding highly amused, interrupted them. “El-Lon has the first supply containers arriving in about fifteen minutes.”

Obi-Wan vainly attempted not to blush but failed miserably. He gave a chiding look at Qui-Gon, who also looked a bit disconcerted. Obi-Wan turned to the alien hulk with as much dignity as he could muster and said, “Thank you, Toppo. Are the droids sturdy enough to help unload them?”

“Oh yeah, that’s no problem,” Toppo assured him, stepping aside as Obi-Wan passed him. “Good thing we all can eat the same things and have no special dietary restrictions.”

Obi-Wan paused. “Why is that? There’s plenty of cargo space and three kitchens.”

“And all the air is recycled. Smells travel. I hope you guys don’t cook gross stuff and turn me off my own cooking.” Toppo gave Obi-Wan a smirk and trundled off.

“He has a valid point,” Qui-Gon obliged.

Obi-Wan groaned.

* * *

The last thing supplied was the water tanks. Dendora had plentiful water so it wound up being the cheapest thing they bought. El-Lon packed up all that he wanted from his home, informed the local magistrates to give the house to someone who needed it, and they left the small two-story home behind. Clothes were procured for everyone as well, multiple sizes for the growing children, especially baby Luke. Deciding to forego their Jedi togs, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon indulged a bit, not so much in fancy fabric but in colors. As Jedi they had some non-Jedi clothes, but not many and they weren’t often worn. Bedding was also purchased, enough for all the damn rooms on the ship even if they were unused. 

They had the money, Qui-Gon pointed out. Might as well use it. Who knew what the future would bring? He knew he’d won the argument when Obi-Wan frowned at him but nodded acquiescence.

The last twelve hours Obi-Wan had been jumpy. His sleep was disturbed but when Qui-Gon woke him, Obi-Wan couldn’t say what he’d dreamt. His changeling blue-green eyes darted hither and yon, as if seeking out potential enemies ambushing them. He was tense and on alert.

They had gotten the children settled, everyone introduced and comfortable with each other. Toppo fascinated the younglings and they bombarded him with questions that would have been rude from an adult but was honest curiosity from a child. Toppo answered with easy grace and teasing. Despite the hulking giant’s gruffness, he seemed genuinely eager to be with all them. Qui-Gon knew Toppo was running, but reasoned they all were. Where they were going, anyone chasing was going to be hard pressed to follow. Not impossible, but not easily.

It was two days after the self-imposed deadline of anyone hunting them reaching them from anywhere in the Republic. The Jinn brothers and Obi-Wan were in the cockpit, running through take off procedures with the space port control. Final approval had been given and they began to rise in the air.

Obi-Wan’s eyes rolled back in his head and Qui-Gon’s whipped around in alarm, both at Obi-Wan’s lack of consciousness and his own sense of the disturbance in the Force. 

“What’s happening?” demanded El-Lon.

“Anakin is here.”

“Who?”

“The Jedi turned dark. Obi-Wan’s apprentice. We all but raised him, trained him. He’s here.” 

“Didn’t Obi-Wan say he cut the guy’s limbs off?” El-Lon asked with a hint of alarm in his voice.

“He did.”

“Then how-?”

“I don’t know but we need to leave. Now.” Qui-Gon gently pulled Obi-Wan out of the main pilot’s seat and took his place. He pulled the ship out of the atmosphere and cursed in every language he knew at the sight of a troop transport approaching them.

“That’s bad, Qui-Gon,” El-Lon said with a bit of panic.

“We’ll be fine,” he reassured but didn’t feel it. Anakin was on that ship. Anakin knew he and Obi-Wan’s Force signatures as well as his own. Anakin would know they were on this ship and attempting to leave.

Qui-Gon quickly plugged in the coordinates for a hyperspace jump and braced himself. “Get ready.”

“Now? We’re not clear of planetary orbit!” El-Lon shouted.

“No choice. We have to jump,” Qui-Gon told him even as he triggered the hyperdrive.

The stars shifted, the planet warped, and Qui-Gon felt the telltale hit of a tractor beam even as the ship merged into the hyper stream. ‘Please,’ Qui-Gon prayed to anyone listening, ‘let us get away.’

The stars turned to streaks of light and Qui-Gon checked all the ship’s systems. No damage. They were gone. Dandora was behind them, as was Anakin. The jump to the edge of the Outer Rim wouldn’t take long. Then came the long maneuverings of the Hyperspace Route to the Unknown Sector known only to the Jedi.  
Qui-Gon had been to Ilum three times during his life. Once as an initiate to get his first Kyber crystal to make his first lightsaber for his Gathering, once as a guardian of initiates sent on their Gathering, and last to replace his first crystal when it was destroyed. All of those visits had been many years ago and he had not been piloting. He knew the general route to Ilum in theory, but not in practice.

Once he ascertained everything was secure for now, he turned his attention to Obi-Wan, who was starting to rouse on the floor next to the pilot’s chair.

Qui-Gon helped him up, Obi-Wan clutching his head as if in pain. “Anakin is royally pissed off,” Obi-Wan reported.

Qui-Gon compressed his lips but said nothing, holding his love close.

“I had no idea…” Obi-Wan’s sentence trailed off but Qui-Gon didn’t need to hear the words to know what Obi-Wan was going to say. ‘No idea Anakin could invade minds like that.”

“It’s a trait of the Dark Side,” he said. “Anakin has always been powerful and highly intelligent. It stands to reason he’d pick up their hideous tricks easily enough.”

“He’s also in a lot of pain. That’s how he overpowered me. Made me feel his pain.” Obi-Wan buried his face in Qui-Gon’s chest, hiding.

“We’ve escaped,” Qui-Gon told him, brushing a hand through the soft copper hair. “I made the jump to the edge of the Outer Rim. We’ll make our way to Ilum, collect as many crystals as we can, see if any of the Jedi assigned there wish to join us and then plan our next move.”

Obi-Wan gave a sigh and nodded, looking up at Qui-Gon, his beautiful eyes sad. “I never wanted to hurt him.”

Qui-Gon smiled at Obi-Wan in understanding. “I know, my love. None of us did. I think perhaps I misinterpreted the Prophecy. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

El-Lon cleared his throat, causing both Jedi to start, having forgotten he was there. “Just so we’re clear. I’m not sharing any wall with you two. You probably fuck too loud.”

Qui-Gon gave a surprised laugh and Obi-Wan joined in. “Yes,” they said in unison. “We won’t be offended if any of you put some distance between us,” Qui-Gon added.

El-Lon nodded. “I’ll stay here. Take care Obi-Wan. He looks like he could a pain pill for that headache.”

Qui-Gon tipped his head to the side at that. “You can’t see his face. How do you know he has a headache?”

Obi-Wan groaned. “Qui-Gon, you are one of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. You can’t sense that your brother has a hint of Force-sensitivity?”

El-Lon gave his older brother a smirk and waved them away. “I’ll call you when we’ve reached the edge of the Outer Rim. Go.” He waved them away.

They went. Obi-Wan swallowed a pain pill with a grimace and Qui-Gon sympathized. Obi-Wan had never taken pills well. They sat in the galley closest to the cockpit in silence.

“Is this going to work?” Obi-Wan asked wearily and with a smidge of defeatism.

“You have the gift of precognizance. You tell me.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to retort and then closed it. He shrugged. “The Force tells me nothing. It’s still as a pond.”

Qui-Gon grunted. “For me as well. I think we’re doing the right thing. We have to get to Ilum before the Sith do. After that, I suggest we meditate on it.”

Obi-Wan frowned but nodded. The pinched look of pain was fading from his face.

“I do wish you’d shave,” Qui-Gon said suddenly.

Obi-Wan looked at him in surprise and gave a short laugh. “What?”

“The beard’s nice, don’t get me wrong,” Qui-Gon told him with a shrug, “but you have a nice jawline and that sexy dip in your chin…the beard hides that. I miss it.”

“It’ll be my new disguise. Anakin might not remember what I looked like as a padawan.” Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes at Qui-Gon. “I’m not going back to that hideous haircut. Forget it.”

“I do miss the braid though.”

Obi-Wan mock-scowled at him.

“No beard, no braid. Compromise.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and nodded. “Fine. It’s not like I have to impress upon anyone that I’m old and mature now. Got the battle scars for that.”

Qui-Gon quirked a smile at him. “Scars are sexy.”

“Qui-Gon.” Obi-Wan drew his name out in a wheedling tone.

“Just trying to take your mind off things.”

Obi-Wan’s smile was small but sincere. “I appreciate it.” His expressive features took on a pensive look. “Where do we go from here?” he asked in an almost little-boy frightened voice. Even as a young padawan, Qui-Gon rarely heard that tone from his beloved Obi-Wan. It made his heart constrict.

“Anywhere the Force takes us,” Qui-Gon replied.

Obi-Wan stretched out a hand and Qui-Gon took it. They sat there until El-Lon called them back. It was time to make their way to Ilum. It was time to face their future.


End file.
